Книга - When I’m With You

When I'm With You
Donna Hill


The bad-boy heir to the Lawson dynasty has found love!Until his past threatens the future…Longtime New Orleans bachelor Rafe Lawson is finally ready to tie the knot. His heart has been captured by gorgeous senator’s daughter Avery Richards. Then the media descends, jeopardizing her Secret Service career—and their imminent wedding. But it’s the unexpected return of Rafe’s first love that could cost the tycoon everything.







The bad-boy heir to the Lawson dynasty has found love!

Until his past threatens the future...

Longtime New Orleans bachelor Rafe Lawson is finally ready to tie the knot. His heart has been captured by gorgeous senator’s daughter Avery Richards. Then the media descends, jeopardizing her Secret Service career—and their imminent wedding. But it’s the unexpected return of Rafe’s first love that could cost the tycoon everything.


DONNA HILL began writing novels in 1990. Since that time she has had more than forty titles published, which include full-length novels and novellas. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television. She has won numerous awards for her body of work. She is also the editor of five novels, two of which have been nominated for awards. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. She was the first recipient of the RT Book Reviews Trailblazer Award and won the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at www.donnahill.com (http://www.donnahill.com).


Also By Donna Hill (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Seduction and Lies

Temptation and Lies

Longing and Lies

Private Lessons

Spend My Life with You

Secret Attraction

Sultry Nights

Everything Is You

Mistletoe, Baby

The Way You Love Me

My Love at Last

For the Love of You

Surrender to Me

When I’m with You

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


When I’m With You

Donna Hill






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08481-9

WHEN I’M WITH YOU

© 2018 Donna Hill

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


“You sure you’ll be okay until I get back from Nawlins?” He wiped off the countertop with a damp cloth.

She shimmied onto the bar stool at the island counter and extended her hands to Rafe. He took two long steps and was in front of her. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed her palms.

“I’ll be fine, and right here when you get back.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Hmm, I can change my plans,” he said against her lips, “and stay here, which is what I’d rather do.” He caressed her hips.

Avery giggled. “Me, too, but you’ve been gone long enough. Take care of your business.”

He stepped close between her legs. “Business can wait.” He threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, dipped his head and kissed her collarbone.

Avery sucked in a breath of desire and instinctively tightened her legs around him. “You’re going to be late,” she whispered.

He brushed his lips along her neck, nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Privilege is the perk of owning your own plane. Can’t leave without me.”


Dear Reader (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69),

Thank you for joining me on another peek behind the scenes of the Lawson family. In Surrender to Me, Rafe Lawson, bad-boy heir to the Lawson fortune, was finally snared by a woman who was his equal, Secret Service agent Avery Richards. Of course, their road to happiness had its obstacles, but together they fought their way through. Now, in the only sequel to The Lawsons of Louisiana series, Rafe is back and ready to walk down the aisle—but not without his past coming back to change everything.

Rafe Lawson is definitely one of my favorite male characters. I so enjoyed giving him that “edge,” that inaccessibility, but at the same time having him be a complex character who is much deeper than what he appears on the surface.

When I decided to write When I’m with You, part two of his life, I knew that there had to be some bombshells that needed to be dropped, and drop they do. Rafe will be tested in a way that he has never been tested before, and Avery must decide if the Rafe Lawson that she fell in love with is the man she can anchor her future to, even as she struggles with her own secrets.

When I’m with You is a testament to what it means when a man loves a woman and a woman loves him back. Savor each page. Root for true love. Enjoy!

Until next time,

Donna


Acknowledgments (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Big thanks to all of my readers new and old that have made The Lawsons of Louisiana series such a success. I couldn’t do it without you.


Contents

Cover (#u6dfd27b8-6890-5e9d-9d05-a3c90eef6cc9)

Back Cover Text (#uc88181f6-3070-5ee4-af28-2b96011c8cdd)

About the Author (#ubf6044bd-5783-569d-b4a3-041e9c744737)

Booklist (#u6c165d32-d384-5ce1-bfb0-baf05fa00d09)

Title Page (#u4c1fd1ba-493e-5c1a-b7d4-1b10f8262159)

Copyright (#u2646e3e0-944f-59b1-a6e3-9efa6072fa7f)

Introduction (#u8783cf24-90ec-5c25-a4a9-47e5728e280e)

Dear Reader (#u14dd14e5-8e10-59ca-92a4-547b87baec99)

Acknowledgments (#u09cd478e-7eef-5147-add9-615a05838c8a)

Chapter 1 (#u41431108-fc67-5e6e-8b9c-ee83daf411fd)

Chapter 2 (#u825ae63c-1d7e-5905-af04-64fa9c5be180)

Chapter 3 (#u0a14bdd7-61b3-5305-9e79-bb4e02075c63)

Chapter 4 (#u1e88532d-b513-5fd5-ac11-0ec0c23c201d)

Chapter 5 (#u3da2acc4-a529-55a0-a0e3-f233779dab8d)

Chapter 6 (#u2880bd3a-31e2-54f2-8c6f-c6b7656f43dd)

Chapter 7 (#u90d7b404-3b35-510b-9e96-952e8ff43f8d)

Chapter 8 (#ua9e707b1-888f-53b0-b797-098da5dbbc23)

Chapter 9 (#uf20a69f5-5947-5ac7-973f-c63d253e0c42)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

“Your sisters are planning our wedding,” Avery said as she loaded the dishwasher.

Rafe handed her the glasses from the table. “Yeah, they can be a bit enthusiastic,” he said chuckling. He came up behind her, bent over her body and grabbed her waist. “The main thing is we’re going to be legal, official, permanent.”

Avery straightened and turned to face him, leaned against the dishwasher. She looked into his eyes, and as always a flood of heat flowed through her. Being in the same air space with Rafe always did that to her, made her hungry for him, weak to his will. But this was her wedding, her day. She splayed her hands against his chest. “Look, babe, I know it’s your family, and I don’t want to cause any rifts, but...I need some space.”

Rafe’s simmering gaze slowly moved over her face, the way it did whenever he was trying to see beneath the surface of her words. She shifted her weight under his close scrutiny.

“I’ll talk to them, okay,” he said softly.

Avery pressed her lips together and nodded her head.

“Come ’ere.” He pulled her tight against him. “All I want is for you to be happy. Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

Avery rested her head against his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart. Her temple suddenly pounded and a flash of sharp pain shot across her eyes. Her body tensed.

Rafe eased back and looked down at her taut expression. “You okay? Another headache?” He stroked her cheek.

Avery let out a slow breath. “A little. It’ll pass.”

Since the explosion in Paris and the concussion she sustained when she’d rescued Rafe’s father, she’d intermittently suffered from mild to severe headaches. The doctors assured her that they would lessen and then eventually disappear with time.

“Maybe we need to get the doctor to run some more tests.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s only been a little over two months.”

“Yes, but you go back to work next week. The doctor has to clear you. You have to be on your A-game, darlin’. You said so yourself.”

She leaned up and kissed his lips. “And I will be.” There was no way she would see any doctors and tell them what was really going on with her. They’d never clear her to return to duty. And if so it would be desk duty. She did not work her way up the ranks of the Secret Service to sit behind a desk. Plus, she was up for promotion. No way would she blow it. Two Advil. End of story. “I’m fine.” She turned the dial on the dishwasher and it hummed to life. Another morning of domesticity.

After leaving Paris, Rafe took Avery to the Lawson compound to recuperate from her injuries before returning to Avery’s place in Washington, DC. Rafe easily made her townhouse his second home. Their pseudo “living together” arrangement was easier than she’d imagined.

They were a natural fit with each other, as if living under the same roof was something they’d always done. Rafe was attentive, but gave her space. He possessed chef-like skills in the kitchen, a penchant for neatness—she never had to step over discarded clothing, or clean up after a meal—and above all he was a master in the bedroom who made her see heaven on a regular basis. This man was going to be her husband. Sometimes when she looked at him or held him tight between her thighs, she couldn’t believe that Rafe Lawson was hers. What she wanted was just the two of them, but marrying Rafe was marrying his large, controlling family.

“You sure you’ll be okay until I get back from ’Nawlins?” He wiped off the countertop with a damp cloth.

She shimmied onto the barstool at the island counter and extended her hands to Rafe. He took two long steps and was in front of her. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed the insides of her palms.

“I’ll be fine, and right here when you get back.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Hmm, I can change my plans,” he said against her cheek, “and stay here, which is what I’d rather do.” He caressed her hips.

Avery giggled. “Me, too, but you’ve been gone long enough. Take care of your business.”

He stepped deep between her legs. “Business can wait.” He threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, dipped his head and kissed her collarbone.

Avery sucked in a breath of desire and instinctively tightened her legs around him. “You’re going to be late,” she whispered.

He brushed his lips along her neck, nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Privilege is the perk of owning your own plane. Can’t leave without me.” He covered her lips with his and drew her tongue into his mouth.

Avery untied the belt on her robe and then looped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for perks,” she said, as Rafe lifted her from the stool. She wrapped her legs around his waist while he walked them into her bedroom.

Rafe eased her down on the bed and braced his weight above her. “Say the word, darlin’,” he whispered in her ear while he stroked her hip and then lifted her left thigh and draped it over his arm, “and I’ll stay.” He nuzzled her neck, dipped his head down to suckle the peaks of her breasts.

Her heart raced. “Rafe...” she moaned.

“Tell me what you want.” He slid his hands beneath her and pushed deep inside.

“Ahhh...” She clung to him. “You...only you.”

“You got me. Always,” he said from between his teeth and let his body prove it.

* * *

“I can drive you to the airport,” Avery dreamily offered as she stretched her naked body beneath the twisted pale blue sheets.

Rafe glanced over his shoulder, lifted the sheet and peeked underneath. “Naw, darlin’, this is how I want to remember you while I’m gone.” He lightly swatted her lush bottom and pushed up off the bed. “Gonna shower and dress. Want anything while I’m up?”

“Hmm,” she moaned. “Nope.” She tugged the sheet up to her chin and closed her eyes.

Rafe chuckled and padded off to the bathroom.

Avery distantly heard the rush of shower water, soon followed by Rafe’s rendition of The Temptations’ “My Girl.” She smiled and burrowed into the overstuffed pillow. How would she manage without Rafe? They spent their days talking, debating, laughing, investing in each other’s happiness, and their nights consummating their love. This would be the first time they’d be apart...since Paris...

The scent of smoke filled her nostrils. Her heart raced. Blackness. Screams. Pain. Sirens. The sheets clung to her damp body. Sinking. She was sinking. Falling. Had to get out.

“Avery!” Rafe gently clasped her shoulder and sat next to her on the bed. “Cher...”

Her eyes flew open. Her body trembled.

Rafe gathered her up in his arms. “Sssh, just a dream, cher.” He rocked and held her until the shaking stopped.

“I’m ok-aay.” She forced a smile and pushed her damp hair away from her face.

“No, you’re not. And I’m not going anywhere. Not leaving you.”

Avery pushed herself into a sitting position. “I’m fine, Rafe. Really. Just a dream—like you said. The doctors said to expect flashbacks. That’s all it was. Period.” She took his face in her hands. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll ask Kerry to stay over until you get back.”

A deep line etched itself between sleek, dark brows. “No. Kerry has to work. You’ll be alone all day.”

“Rafe, it’s just a headache and some bad dreams. I’m not an invalid.”

“I’ll go on one condition only.” He looked hard into her eyes.

She folded her arms and pouted. “What?”

“You stay at my house in Arlington. Alice is there. She can get you whatever you need, keep you company.”

“You mean keep tabs on me,” she said with an arched brow.

“Well, yeah. That, too,” he conceded with that slow smile.

Avery huffed, pondered the offer. “Okay. If that’s what it’s gonna take to get you on that plane.”

“That’s exactly what it’s gonna take. I’ll call and let Alice know to stock up. Make a list of anything special you want and I’ll let her know.” He pointed a finger at her. “List. Pack.” He winked and then turned to get his clothes and dress.

By the time he’d finished dressing, Avery was ready to get into the shower. She’d left a list on the bed. Rafe grinned. Martini mix and taco fixings. He placed a call to Alice and let her know company was coming. Alice was delighted that Avery would be staying at the house and promised to take great care of her while he was gone.

“Got everything?” Rafe asked while he carried her bag to the door.

Avery stood in the middle of her living room and took a slow, deliberate look around. She drew in a deep breath. Every move that she’d made since she graduated high school was to establish independence. After she lost her mother in her teens and spent almost the next decade eating her way through life, before she hit her own near-life-or-death moment, she finally turned all her energy into gaining control over every aspect of her life—from healthy eating to religiously exercising, to a laser focus on rising up the ranks of the Secret Service. She cherished the life that she’d built for herself, by herself, even as her father worked tirelessly to keep her reined in.

This packing up and going to stay at Rafe’s place, under his direction, went against every instinct of self-preservation that she had. She gritted her teeth. “I think so,” she finally said. She hiked her oversize zebra-print tote over her shoulder, snatched up her keys from the table by the door and walked out. “What about my car?”

Rafe opened the passenger door to his Navigator and froze when he caught the look of panic in her eyes. He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Cher,” he crooned, “we’ll take your car if you want, and leave mine here. I’ll take a cab to the airfield.”

The burn of tears threatened to spill. She blinked rapidly and nodded in agreement. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. “I know, darlin’,” he said in his easy drawl. “This isn’t what you want. But I promise, it’s going to be all right. Trust me.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Trust me.”

Avery swallowed over the dry knot in her throat. “I do.”

“Good.” He shut the passenger door of his Navigator, took her keys, walked around and opened her car door.

Avery tossed her tote on the back seat while Rafe stowed her bags in the trunk and then got in behind the wheel.

“Listen...” He buckled his seat belt. “I know you crave your space.” He reached across the gearshift and took her hand. “All I want is to make sure you’re okay. That you’re safe. I’d make myself crazy in ’Nawlins worrying about you. I want to take care of you, cher. Let me,” he added gently.

Avery leaned in and lightly kissed him. “I know...thank you...really.”

He gave her a reflective look as he caressed her chin with his thumb. Then he turned the key in the ignition and pulled off.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Rafe eased Avery’s car down the driveway of his Arlington, Virginia, home. He shut off the engine, just as Alice pulled the front door open and stepped out. She hurried over to the car.

“Mr. Rafe. So good to have you home. And Ms. Avery.” She wrapped her arms around Avery in a motherly hug and buzzed her cheek with a kiss. “Come, come. Let’s get you settled. Are you hungry?”

Avery giggled. “I’m fine, Alice. Thanks.”

“I have everything all prepared. You can stay in the guest room, or Mr. Rafe’s room,” she added with a wink and then led them inside. “And I made a tray of snacks just in case,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Rafe glanced at Avery. The smile on her face eased the knot of tension in his gut. He slid an arm around her waist and they walked inside.

* * *

Avery held Rafe’s hand that rested on her hip. “Thank you for this,” she said.

“Nothing to thank me for.” He squeezed her hip. “I want you to be taken care of. Anything you need, let Alice know.” He grinned. “She loves taking care of people.”

“Your car is here!” Alice called out.

“See.” He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, darlin’. I need to get going. Want to beat this weather.”

Avery looped her arm through his, and they walked out of his bedroom, downstairs and out to the car that waited to take him to the airport.

“I’ll call you when I get in.”

“Fly safe.”

“Always.” He kissed her lightly. “Love you.” He glanced past her toward the house. “Take care of my woman,” he called out to Alice, who stood on the front steps. He gave Avery one last hug. “Call you tonight.”

Avery nodded and stepped back as he got in the car, before taking a quick look at the overcast sky.

The car door slammed, and the car slowly eased down the driveway and out to the street. Avery felt a rush of emptiness open inside her. A warm arm slid around her shoulders and held her close. Alice smiled knowingly up at her.

“Mr. Rafe will be fine, and back before you know it. Come inside. You must try my jambalaya! Just a little taste,” she teased with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I’d love some.”

* * *

“Oh. My. God. This is sooo good,” Avery gushed, finishing off another mouthful.

Alice beamed. “Have as much as you like. There’s plenty.” She pulled out a chair and sat opposite Avery at the circular wrought-iron and reclaimed-wood table.

“I am so happy that Mr. Rafe finally settled down.”

Avery glanced up from beneath her lashes.

“His heart was so broken...after Janae.” She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t think he would ever be the same.” She turned her palms up. “And he’s not,” she said succinctly. “He’s better.” She wagged a finger at Avery. “Because of you.”

“What...was he like after...”

Alice’s open expression grew somber. Her brows tightened. She spread her palms down on the table. “Rafe was always a little wild and reckless, especially with that motorcycle of his. But after Janae, whatever piece of himself that kept him halfway grounded broke. On the outside, he was the same—that easy smile, the charm, the chivalry. But there was a darkness that settled inside him. He took crazy chances, went from relationship to relationship, in constant conflict with his father—more than usual. I was afraid for him. Every time he got behind the wheel, or on that bike or up in that plane of his, I prayed.” She made a quick sign of the cross. “Because I knew, under that smile, he didn’t care about his own life anymore.”

“I had no idea,” she murmured.

“I’d been with the family for years, but when Rafe decided to take over this house, I came here. He needed someone to look after him since he wasn’t going to look after himself. Back in ’Nawlins, he has his sisters and brother.”

“The move had to be hard on you.”

“I’ve been taking care of Mr. Rafe and his family since they were running around in shorts. He’s like a son to me.” She lowered her voice as if she feared being overheard. “Always was my favorite.” She winked.

Avery grinned.

“Then he met you and the light came back to his eyes. His laughter is real again and that...thing that drove him to be so reckless seems to have stepped into the background. He wants to be around for you.”

Avery’s throat tightened. “How’d you know I needed to hear this today?”

Alice patted Avery’s fisted hand. “I haven’t spent half my life taking care of people without being able to spot need in someone.”

“I’m glad he has you in his life.”

Alice pushed up to her feet. “Now that you’re part of the family, I’ll be looking after you, too. And I think you could use a hot bath, a fluffy robe and a good movie.”

Avery tossed her head back and laughed. “You read my mind. Alice, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She collected the plates.

“How do I get Dominique, Desiree and Lee Ann to...let me have my own wedding?”

Alice pursed her lips. “Hmm, those three sisters together are like a hurricane, with Dominique at the center of the storm.” She turned on the faucet in the sink, rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “They adore their brother, and they’re so thrilled that he’s happy again—they want to orchestrate every detail of the occasion for him.” She dried her hands on a black-and-white striped towel, blew out a breath. “One piece of advice I can offer, you don’t want to get in between Rafe and his sisters. If what they’re doing is too much, talk to them. Make sure you’re part of the plans and decisions. All of you women love him, so do it together.”

Avery bobbed her head. “Thanks.” She got up. “In the meantime, I’m going to take your advice and sit in a hot tub for a while.”

Avery went upstairs. She searched the cabinet beneath the sink and located the bath beads that she’d brought over the last time she was here. She poured a handful into the water rushing into the tub from the jets. Although she took a shower earlier, the bath would be therapeutic. Almost immediately the scent of soothing lavender filled the room. She stripped out of her clothes, turned off the faucets and sank into the steamy, scented water.

Every muscle sighed in pleasure. She leaned her head back against the lip of the tub and closed her eyes. Alice’s words of advice played softly. She didn’t have the time or opportunity to go down to Louisiana to do a face-to-face with Rafe’s sisters. She’d figure something out. She’d find a way to get them to accept that it was time to let Rafe go and that she would be part of his life and their family.


Chapter 2 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Rafe disembarked from his Cessna. Flying always filled him with an awesome sense of invincibility. High above the clouds was a feeling that he could not describe. The only thing more thrilling was being with Avery. He smiled. He’d barely been gone three hours and he missed her already.

He thanked the crew, hopped on his motorcycle that he’d left parked at the landing strip and sped home. As he rode with a controlled abandon, the landscape of his life spread out before him. He’d spent years doing just this, racing through life, not taking the time to really see what was in front of him. Sure, there were good times to be had, and he’d never want to go back and change them. But he’d done it all while running on empty. For all the travel, the music gigs, the successes—and failures—and the women, there was a space inside him that none of those things could fill. He was starting to feel whole again from the inside. All the bourbon, reckless behavior, and even the fights with his father were all part of trying to fill the emptiness.

He maneuvered around a slow-moving minivan, resisting the urge to lean in and press the gas all the way down to the blacktop of the highway. He smiled beneath the tinted visor that shielded his face. It was all Avery’s fault. She was the one responsible for his reincarnation.

Rafe signaled for his exit, dutifully followed the flow of cars up the ramp and out into residential traffic. After a short ten-minute ride he pulled into the driveway of his two-story townhouse. The garage door whirred open. He parked his bike inside and entered the house through the door that led to the kitchen. He set his helmet on the granite countertop, tugged off the black leather gloves and tossed them there, as well.

He walked through the kitchen and into the living space to be greeted by the pile of mail that had been slid inside the mail slot of the front door. Scooping up the stack of bills, newspapers and subscription magazines, he absently sorted through half of them, deciding what to keep and what to toss, before dropping them on the end table. And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom.

He wanted to change his clothes first. After that he would get in touch with his producer to set up a meeting about the new tracks, and then check in with Quinten and try to twist his arm into coming to the Big Easy to sit in on a set. He’d bribe him with gumbo. Tomorrow he would go to the office. Although he’d put together a solid team for his foundation, he still needed to show his face and be a presence. Besides, there was something intangibly fulfilling about walking into a building and into rooms he’d envisioned that were now a reality. But it was the good work the RBL Foundation did for the young people of the community that was immeasurable. For all the crazy bull that he’d done in his life, the Foundation at least put a fresh coat of paint over it, and it was certainly an endeavor that he could be proud of.

He pulled on a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and a T-shirt and then went back downstairs in search of food. Passing through the living room he grabbed the mail he’d tossed on the end table and took it with him to the kitchen.

Although the Lawson family always had a housekeeper, each of the Lawson siblings learned how to cook. And if Rafe had to say so himself, he was pretty damned good. He tugged open the fridge. Milk, eggs, a half roll of salami and something in a plastic bowl that he didn’t recognize. The trick of course was to remember to shop. He pulled open the vegetable bin and grinned with relief at the sight of a green and a red pepper that still had life in them, along with a package of shredded cheddar cheese. Omelet coming right up.

While he wolfed down his omelet, he snapped open one of the major New Orleans newspapers that he received via delivery service. He started at the back of the paper, in the sports section, worked his way forward and nearly choked on his omelet when a picture of him and Avery—taken when he had no idea—with the caption “Rafe Lawson, New Orleans’s most eligible bachelor, engaged to Avery Richards.” There was a short paragraph that followed, announcing the engagement and that Avery was the daughter of Senator Horace Richards. It went on to state that the marriage of Lawson and Richards will redefine the political power couple. The nuptials are scheduled for early summer. No date has been set.

With every word, the knot in his stomach tightened. First of all, where the hell did anyone get their picture? Were they being followed? And most important, who gave the damned newspaper information on his and Avery’s engagement? He slapped the paper down on the counter. Had to be one of his sisters, and he would bet money that it was Dominique. It had her signature all over it.

“Shit.” He pushed back from the table with such force that the stool toppled backward, hit the floor and rolled. He gripped the paper in his fist and stormed upstairs to get dressed. His visit to the family home was going to be sooner rather than later.

Friday nights when the family was in town they generally turned up at the family home at some point. Hopefully tonight would be no different, which would help him avoid having to make a round of house calls. More than likely Lee Ann was in DC with Sterling. And he didn’t think the announcement in the paper was her doing, anyway.

Rafe opted to drive his Audi. As furious as he was he didn’t want to get on the road with his bike. He checked the trunk to make sure his small duffel bag with his “on the road” change of clothing was inside. He unzipped the bag and did a quick check of the contents. Satisfied, he slammed the trunk shut and got in behind the wheel. He had a very strong feeling that tonight would be a three-bourbon evening and driving would not be an option.

Halfway between his home and the family residence Rafe used the voice-activated phone feature and called Avery.

“Hi, darlin’,” he said the moment the call connected.

“Hi.” She yawned.

“Everything good? Sounds like I woke you.”

“Hmm, I guess I really did nod off. Alice fed me and insisted I take a hot bath.” She yawned again. “I thought I was reading,” she said over light laughter.

Rafe chuckled. “Not going to keep you. You need your rest. Just wanted to hear your voice and let you know I got here okay.”

“Sounds like you’re outside or something.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to the family house.”

“Oh.”

“Plan to talk to my sisters...about the wedding.” No reason to tell her more than that. He’d deal with the mess in the papers.

Alice’s advice rushed to the forefront. “Rafe...babe, I was being overly sensitive. I’m not going to put you in between me and your family. When I come down there next month I can talk to them myself. I know they mean well.”

Rafe ran his tongue across his bottom lip. He couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in his DNA, but he wasn’t going to upset Avery. “Whatever you want to do, darlin’. As long as you’re happy and stress-free. To me, that’s what’s important.”

“Thanks. Well, say hello to the fam for me.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“You, too, cher. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Have a good evening.”

“You, too.”

The call disconnected. Rafe frowned. He didn’t want to slip into a habit of lying to Avery. Even though what he told her wasn’t an out-and-out lie, it was a lie by omission. If he could stomp out the newspaper reports, then she wouldn’t have to know. His line of reasoning was thin to say the least. What he needed to do, in the meantime, was set his sisters straight. The last thing he wanted was for Avery to get bombarded with her face plastered on the tabloids and splashed across every Louisiana paper’s gossip section. He was used to it. He grew up on the receiving end of razor-sharp pens and intrusive flashbulbs, lived much of his adult life as a “trending topic” and grew immune to seeing his face on the pages of the news or covers of magazines. But that wasn’t Avery’s life. He had to do everything in his power to protect her. She may carry a gun and have security clearances, but both were useless against vigilant and determined journalists.

Rafe made the turn onto the private grounds where the Lawson mansion stood, glad to see some lights on, signaled right and eased his vehicle down the winding road that opened onto the sweeping green landscape that braced the eight-bedroom, six-bath family home. Growing up, it was nothing to play hide-and-seek in the massive house, peek into the formal dining room to see the famous faces of those that most only saw on television, slide down the mahogany bannisters, race for hours across the grassy lawn, attend the best schools or skip rocks along the pond that ran behind the house. For him and his siblings, and cousins that frequented the home, it was all pretty normal. But his father and his uncles drilled into them from the time that they were old enough to sit still and listen that the life the Lawsons lived was a privilege, not a right, and as such they owed society a debt, and that debt was to pay it forward. Each of his siblings, minus himself and Dominique, embraced the Lawson mantra. As the two rebels of the family, Rafe and Dominique were hell-bent and determined to do whatever was necessary to tick their father off. Their track record in that regard was impeccable. Dominique should have been his twin instead of Desiree’s. He and Dom were true sibling soulmates. However, that pesky thing called love swept through the Lawson clan like a summer storm and took each of them out one by one, Dominique included. Rafe remained the last holdout—until Avery.

He parked on the side of the house, used his key to open the front door. The aroma of backyard barbecuing mixed with laughter beckoned him. He followed the lip-smacking scents and was met by the wide-eyed surprise of his aunt Jacqueline, his brother Justin and his fiancée, Bailey.

“Rafe!” Jacqueline greeted him, her smile wide. “I thought you were in DC, baby.”

“Hey, big bro,” Justin said, raising a bottle of beer in salute.

Rafe rounded the white wrought-iron table, leaned down and gave his aunt a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Aunt J, good to see you. Where’s Ray?”

Raymond Jordan had long been his aunt’s freelance photographer. They’d traveled the world together, chasing that elusive story in some of the most exotic and often dangerous places on the globe. Finally they realized that what they needed—beyond the excitement of the next assignment—was each other. More than that, Raymond was instrumental in seeing his aunt through one of the most difficult times in her life. As much as her brother Branford’s bone marrow saved her body, Raymond’s love saved her soul. Now that the Lawson children were either married off or working on it, the house for the most part was empty. Jacqueline and Raymond decided to return to Jacqueline’s childhood home and finally put down some roots.

Jacqueline laughed at her nephew’s question. “Down in the wine cellar. He swears he’s a wine expert now.”

Rafe chuckled and went to bear-hug his brother. “Hey, bro. Didn’t expect to see you here. When did ya’ll get in?”

“Came in from New York this morning. Just for the weekend.”

Rafe turned to his sister-in-law-to-be. “Bailey, woman, you still hanging out with this guy,” he teased and buzzed her cheek.

Bailey giggled. “No other choice. He’s stuck with me.”

Justin draped his arm around Bailey’s shoulder and winked up at his brother.

“You two keep it up and somebody’s gonna write a book about you,” Rafe playfully warned.

“Very funny,” Justin groused. “But I see you’re still in the headlines.” He lifted his chin toward a magazine tossed on top of the side table.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed and zeroed in on the magazine.

“My man,” came a hearty greeting from behind Rafe.

Rafe looked over his shoulder. Raymond stepped out onto the veranda with a bottle of wine in each hand.

“Now it’s a party,” Raymond joked and set the bottles down on the table.

Rafe grinned. “Was just asking about you. Looking good, man.”

“Other than the snowcaps,” he said, running a hand over his head and then stroking his tapered goatee, “I’m feeling good.” He patted his chiseled belly. “Gotta keep up with my gorgeous wife.”

“How’s Avery doing?” Bailey asked.

“She’s good,” Rafe said on a breath. “Heading back to work next week.”

“So soon,” Jacqueline said with a frown. She held out her flute, which Raymond filled with chilled red wine. “Seems like that mess in France was just the other day,” she softly said and mouthed her thanks to Raymond, who took a seat next to her. “Your father is still recovering. Still needs a cane to get around and rehab once per week.”

“Dad’s injuries were a little more severe, Aunt J. He had broken bones, and he’s no kid.”

“Still...” She sipped her wine. “As long as she’s better.”

The headaches, the nightmares... The family didn’t need to know all that. “Yeah, me too.” He stepped around his brother and pulled up a chair from the back end of the veranda.

“Beer’s in the cooler,” Justin offered.

“Thanks.” He flipped open the cooler and took out a can and then reached for the magazine. His jaw tightened. There was a picture of him holding open a car door for Avery, with the caption “Louisiana playboy Rafe Lawson a person of interest to Secret Service Agent Avery Richards.” He muttered a string of curses under his breath. “You wanted to know what brought me here,” he ground out, flashing a look at his aunt. “That’s why.” He tossed the offending magazine onto the table.

“Guess you haven’t seen the local daily paper,” Justin said with a raised brow. “Big spread.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened.

“Rafe,” Jacqueline began, her tone soft and entreating. “You know how this works, especially with our family.”

“I do. But Avery doesn’t.”

“Maybe not, but unfortunately when she agreed to marry you it came with all the Lawson baggage. Media has been tracking your every move since you were a teenager.”

“Gotta admit, big bro, you always give them plenty to feed on,” Justin added.

And now Avery was paying for his wild ways. Rafe pushed out a breath and plopped down in the available chair, stretched his long legs out in front of him. He snapped off the top of the beer and took a long, deep swallow. “Yeah,” he muttered in reluctant agreement. “Pictures are one thing, but giving details is something else.”

“What do you mean?” Bailey asked.

“Announcements in the papers about our engagement. Someone had to tell them, and it wasn’t me.”

Everyone got quiet.

Rafe looked from one averted face to the next. “Dominique,” he said for all of them. He shook his head.

“You know Dom,” Jacqueline offered, stretching out her hand to cover his. “She’s so happy for you and Avery. Making the announcement wasn’t done to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Your wedding is all she talks about.”

Rafe sighed. He knew his family was sincerely happy that he was finally settling down, that he’d found someone to fill the space in his life. After Janae, he’d gone on a buck-wild, non-stop binge of reckless living. When he met Avery, his world finally came into focus and his nonchalant attitude shifted. He finally, for the first time in years, wanted more than the thrill of the moment. He wanted a forever. His aunt and brother were right, of course. He’d lived his life, along with the rest of his family, under the glare of the spotlight. However, it was a part of his reality that he didn’t want for Avery, especially when the glare of the spotlight was intentional. Add the zeal of his sisters into the mix, wanting to have their hands in every aspect of the wedding, and it was a blowup waiting to happen. As much as he may not have a problem with his sisters planning his wedding, his first obligation now was to Avery. She was the only one he wanted to make happy. Dominique was going to have to take a step back. Two steps.

“Dom coming by this weekend?” Rafe asked.

“Probably,” Jacqueline said. “I was planning Sunday dinner. She usually drops by.”

Rafe nodded. He pushed up from the chair and stood. “In the meantime, what’s a brotha gotta do to get some of that barbecue?”

The tense air filled with relieved laughter.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” Raymond said.

Rafe walked over to the stainless-steel grill that was set up outside of the veranda. Sunday couldn’t get here fast enough. He loaded a plate with ribs and a side of salad to take the edge off. He and Dominique were going to have a serious chat.


Chapter 3 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Avery slipped on the pale peach satin robe, which Rafe purchased for her on one of their spontaneous vacations, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Alice greeted her with a broad smile. “You look rested.”

“Good morning. Yes, I am. Hmm, something smells delicious.”

“Cheese grits, maple-dipped bacon and light-as-a-feather eggs. I wasn’t sure when you would be getting up. But everything is in the warmer. Fresh coffee and juice. Take as much as you want. I need to run some errands in a bit, but I should be back in an hour or two.”

“Sure. Go.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine. Thanks.” She pulled out a chair from the breakfast nook and sat down, while Alice slipped out of the kitchen and took care of all the magic she created in the house. The silver warming tray, and a glass bowl of chopped fresh fruit was in the center of the table. Avery lifted the oblong cover of the warming tray and smiled. She had to admit, it would be really easy to get used to this kind of life. She scooped eggs, bacon and grits onto her plate and added fresh fruit.

A copy of The Washington Post lay neatly folded at the end of the table. She pulled it closer and then poured herself a mug of coffee.

The front page was plastered with raw images of the devastation across the Caribbean islands and Puerto Rico that were still recovering, months later, from a series of catastrophic hurricanes that ravished the areas. A wave of sadness swept through her. She could not begin to imagine what the people continued to go through. Meanwhile, here at home, the country was not being torn apart by outside forces, but from those within.

She slowly chewed her food and flipped the pages, scanning the headlines, from international news to arts and entertainment. She choked at the shock of seeing her face staring back at her from the paper and then grabbed a glass of juice to wash down the bacon.

Avery’s pulse quickened. It was a picture of her and Rafe at that outdoor café they loved in DC. Beneath it was a caption and a short paragraph, announcing their engagement and pending summer wedding. They were at that café shortly before she went off on detail to Paris, before the engagement. Her thoughts turned in circles. She certainly wasn’t anyone a journalist would be interested in. If anything, because of her work she remained as low-key and inconspicuous as possible. She dropped the paper down on the table. It wasn’t her they were photographing; it was Rafe, and she was swept up in the tide of his notoriety even outside of Louisiana. Collateral damage.

Having his sisters orchestrate her wedding was difficult enough to navigate, but this kind of publicity could jeopardize her job, more important, put at risk the people she was sworn to protect.

“Dammit!” She pushed away from the table. This was going to turn into a nightmare. She felt it in the pit of her stomach and she had no idea what to do about it.

* * *

“I just saw it,” Kerry said into the phone. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, girl. I’m stuck between stunned that the rest of the world gives a damn who I marry, to furious that the rest of the world gives a damn.” She pushed out a breath of frustration. “It was bad enough when my own father had me followed when me and Rafe first started dating. At least I could get him to stop with his craziness. This is a whole other story and I have no idea how this is going to play out at work.”

“Hmmm, yeah, there’s that. But, hey, no way is the Secret Service going to allow photographers to trail around, taking pictures.”

Avery let her head flop back against the cushion of the couch. “I guess,” she muttered.

“If it helps any I haven’t heard any whisperings or gossip here at work.”

“That’s good, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Listen... I know how you are about privacy. It’s part of our job, but it’s also part of who you are. I know you. If you could move through the day without having to give over anything of yourself, you would. I get that your self-imposed isolation is a defense mechanism. If no one can get close, no one can hurt you. But now there’s Rafe.”

Even the sound of his name made her heart tumble in her chest.

“What you have going with Rafe is a whole new world for you. You’re going to have to find a way to deal with it, sis, if you want to marry him.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just wish...it was the two of us, ya know. He has this big-ass family...”

“Try to look at it this way, you’ll finally have not only a husband but a real family, Avery, with sisters and brothers and cousins. You won’t be that motherless, only child anymore. Embrace it, instead of trying to keep it like a side chick.” They both laughed at her comparison. “You deserve a family,” she added softly.

It was true. She did deserve a family, although she had no idea what being part of one even meant. After her mother died, with no siblings or extended family, it was her and her father, Horace. Rather it was her. Horace Richards turned his entire life toward building his career in politics. She was on her own. Kerry was the closest thing to family that she had...until Rafe.

“I’ll try,” she conceded. “Anyway, stop by when you get off.”

“His place is out in Arlington, right?”

“On second thought, I need to get out of the house. Why don’t we meet for dinner? I can drive in.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Seven?”

“Works for me.”

“Let’s meet up at Baldwin’s. We haven’t been there in a minute.” Baldwin’s, named in honor of literary icon James Baldwin, was renowned for its excellent cuisine, but especially for the literati who frequented the establishment, often reading from their new works, performing spoken word or just chilling. The vibe was stimulating while simultaneously relaxing.

“Perfect. See you there.”

“Bye.” Avery disconnected the call and set the phone down on the table. She glanced around. What was she going to do with herself for the rest of the day? Maybe she’d go for a run, burn off some of her pent-up energy, clear her head.

She pushed up from the couch and went into the bedroom to change clothes.

“Alice,” she called out from the front door. “I’m going for a short run. Be back soon.”

“Sure.” She peeked her head out from the kitchen. “Should I fix lunch?”

Avery opened the front door. “Only if you promise to eat with me.”

Alice smiled. “Okay.”

“Great. Be back soon—in about an hour or so.”

Avery stepped out into the bright afternoon. A light breeze blew, perfect for running. She did a few light stretches, started off and never noticed the car parked across the street.

* * *

Baldwin’s, as always for a Saturday night, sizzled with energy. Music from the house’s jazz band played their rendition of “’Round Midnight,” beckoning every customer who walked through the door to bob his or her head to the rhythm.

Avery could see from peeking around the tinted windows that separated the seated guests from the hostess station, that there were barely any empty tables. There were two sets of customers ahead of her and Kerry waiting to be seated: a couple and a party of four. Hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long.

Baldwin’s, beyond the cultural significance of honoring the author, activist and icon James Baldwin, held a special place in her heart. On one of several visits when Rafe visited her in DC, Baldwin’s was one of the venues where she heard him play. Was it that night that she fell irrevocably in love with him when he played Coltrane’s “Love Supreme” to a standing ovation?

Kerry nudged her.

Avery blinked. “What?”

“What are you grinning about?”

“Oh,” she laughed lightly, amused that she was caught in her daydream. “Just thinking about one of the nights I was here with Rafe.”

“Table for two?” the hostess asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” Kerry answered.

She took two menus from the holder on the podium and handed them off to a waitress. “Mia will show you to your seats.”

Avery and Kerry walked several steps behind Mia as they wound their way around the dark circular tables, which were topped with white linen and illuminated by votive-candle centerpieces. The space, which was reputed to be one of the Underground Railroad passages, was rife with alcoves, thick cedar-wood rafters, plank floors and carvings in the wood walls, which urban legend claimed are the names and dates of slaves who had escaped—a testament to their passage. Each area of the two-story restaurant was designated as music, art, science, law, literature and named after a noted black figure, like Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner, Thurgood Marshall, Toni Morrison, Dr. King, Malcolm, Ida B. Wells, Gil Scott Heron, Sonia Sanchez, of course Baldwin and many others. Periodically, the management would switch out a namesake and replace it with another noted figure. On the tabletops, along with the candles, were tent cards with writings from the icons. Coming to Baldwin’s was always an experience, as well as a mini lesson on the wealth of black history.

Tonight, Avery and Kerry were seated in the Thurgood Marshall section, which was off to the right of the stage, but still with great views of the comings and goings of the space.

Avery and Kerry settled in their seats and Mia took their drink orders, promising to be back shortly.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Avery admitted. She flipped open the menu. “Yes, crab cakes!”

Kerry chuckled but then suddenly stopped.

Avery glanced up from the menu and landed on Mike, who was walking toward their table. She laid the menu flat.

“Avery...my God.” His dark brown eyes widened in genuine surprise, followed by a smile that was actually warm. He took it upon himself, pulled out the extra chair and sat. He leaned in toward Avery. “How are you?” he asked, his voice low and insistent.

Tonight, Avery desperately wanted to get away from everything that reminded her of Paris and what happened. Mike was a big reminder. They were both on duty the day of the explosion. When she came to, debris and bodies were everywhere. Mike was hurt during the blast. Her training kicked in and she began aiding the injured, one of them being Rafe’s father, another was Mike, among the dozen or so others. She and Mike had their standoffs during their time at the Secret Service, both personal and professional, and were both up for the same promotion. Ironic that Mike should be right as rain and she was...

“Good to see you, too, Mike,” Avery finally said.

“Word on the street is that you’ll be back this week. True?”

“True.”

He nodded. “It’ll be good to have you back, Avery. Really.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

“Well, good to see you. You, too, Kerry.”

Kerry umm-hmmed in her throat.

“Enjoy your evening.” He got up and walked away.

Kerry reached across the table and covered Avery’s fisted hand with her own. “You okay?”

Avery nodded. “Fine.” She pushed out a breath. “Going to have to get back to dealing with Mike sooner or later.”

“I still can’t believe that with all you went through, the heroics not to mention the injuries that you sustained, that Mike is even in the running for the promotion.” Kerry shook her head in disbelief.

“You know as well as I do that this is an old-boys’ club. The fact that women are part of the club at all, and rising up the ranks, still ticks off a lot of the establishment. If they can find anything to disqualify me, they will.”

Mia returned with their drinks and took their dinner order.

Kerry raised her glass. “To kicking butt and taking names.”

Avery tapped her glass against Kerry’s. “All day.” She took a long sip of her frozen strawberry margarita. She would not let anything or anyone stand in the way of getting what she rightly deserved, even if that meant lying to the doctors. No way would she stand down and let Mike walk in the shoes that should be hers. She picked up the tent card and read the inscription. It was a quote from Thurgood Marshall. “A man can make what he wants of himself if he truly believes that he must be ready for hard work and many heartbreaks.” Exactly, and she was ready.


Chapter 4 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Even after all the time that had gone by, and Miami, Florida, had become her home for the past sixteen years, she still kept up with the news from Louisiana and DC, and of course New York City, from her online subscriptions. It helped in her ongoing recovery to read about things that were once so familiar to her. There were still, even now, parts of her life that she could not distinguish between reality or a false memory. But the one thing she knew for certain was that she had been deeply and irrevocably in love. Now he was in love with someone else, marrying someone else.

His smile still made her soul shift, her heart beat just a little faster. She ran her finger across his face on her computer screen. He looked happy, truly happy...without her.

She lifted her hand and touched the scar that ran the length of her forehead, which she covered with bangs or innovative hairstyles. The burns she’d sustained on her legs had healed well, and were barely noticeable anymore. Some days when the pain was really bad she used a cane, but most of the time the medication the doctor prescribed worked.

She tilted her head to the side, studied the image from an angle. His fiancée was beautiful in an understated way. A part of her knew that she needed to let him and the past go. But the part of her that remembered what her life had been like with him wouldn’t let her. He was the only thing from that time that she truly remembered. Them. The two of them against the world. The memory anchored her, kept her from losing the last vestiges of herself and falling into a dark hole of a manufactured past.

Sixteen years is enough time to move on. Rafe clearly did. She had for the most part. It was best—at least that’s what her parents had told her. She’d believed them even though much of what their relationship had been was more mist than substance. The fact that she’d survived at all was a miracle, the doctors said, and memory loss was the price that she paid for her survival. She’d done years of physical therapy, rounds of plastic surgery, seen countless specialists, but most of her life prior to that day was hazy at best. Except for Rafe Lawson. He was the only constant.

She longingly studied his picture before closing the cover of the computer. Much of what her life could have been was ripped from her, her body altered, her memory stolen. For years she’d been at the mercy of doctors and therapists and her parents, and bit by bit she began to create a new life. But she had to go back into the past. She owed it to herself and to Rafe. He loved her first and seeing her again would make him remember.


Chapter 5 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Rafe returned to his Louisiana home, soothed somewhat by his aunt’s calming words. She’d pulled him to the side shortly before he left to remind him that Dominique was his reflection and could have been his twin instead of Desiree’s. Dom lived for excitement, upsetting the status quo and making a splash. Add in the fact that she adored her big brother and it was no surprise that she wanted the world to share her joy. Not to mention that Dominique Lawson thrived on attention, even if the attention was vicarious. He grabbed his go-bag from the trunk and carried it inside, thankful that he didn’t have to use it. He shut the house door behind him, picked up the pile of mail he’d left on the table and turned on the lights against the overhanging gray of a new day. His aunt J was right. He and Dom were two sides of the same coin. He tugged off his jacket, tossed it on a side chair in the living room and dropped the mail on the couch, before turning on some music. Truth be told, the announcements and the pictures didn’t really bother him, but they bothered Avery. So, somehow, he was going to have to get Dom to put a halt to her personal public-relations campaign, and for his sisters Lee Ann and Desiree to loosen the reins of wedding planning. And he had to do all that without starting WWIII. Lucky me.

He crossed the living room to the bar and fixed a shot of bourbon and then flopped back on the couch. He took a deep swallow, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. On Sunday he would get with Dominique and straighten things out. End of that story. But he still had plenty of other business to handle now that he was home, and he intended to make a quick pit stop to New York to get with Q, since it was unlikely that he’d bring Muhammad to the mountain, before returning to Virginia.

A lot had been put on hold since Avery’s and his father’s injuries from the bombing in Paris. Even though his nightclub and his foundation had good people at the helm, he kept his hand in. Lack of oversight was the downfall of too many businesses, and he had no intention of letting his become a statistic.

He finished off his drink and went through a mental checklist of everything he needed to take care of in the next few days. One thing that nagged at him, and something that he and Avery never really discussed, was where they would live. His businesses were in Louisiana, but her job was in DC. He supposed it was an unspoken understanding that he would be the one to relocate. It was easier for him, of course. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

He blew out a breath and stretched his arm to gather up the mail he’d dumped on the other end of the couch, flipped through the envelopes and relegated each to either take care of or ignore. He stopped halfway, tossed everything else aside as he stared for a moment at the embossed return address of which he was very familiar with—the family attorney. Or rather his father’s attorney that the family used. How had he missed this?

Frowning, he turned the envelope over, ripped it open and pulled out the thick sheaf of folded papers. His head jerked back as he read the first page for the second time.

“What the hell...” His eyes ran over the words in utter disbelief and rising fury.

His father had always tried to control the lives of his children no matter how old they were or how far away they moved. But this! He hurled a string of expletives, picked up his phone to call his father but stopped. This conversation deserved a stare-you-in-the-eye sit down.

He shoved the pages back in the envelope, got up and put it in his go-bag. After he took care of his business here at home and in New York, his father’s office in DC would be his next stop. He pulled out his cell from his back pocket and swiped to his phone calls. He pressed the phone icon, leaned back and waited.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Hi! I’m just walking in the door.”

“Oh. Okay. Go get settled. We can talk another time.”

“No. It’s fine.”

He heard a door close. “Everything good?”

“Yes. Kerry and I went to Baldwin’s tonight.”

He chuckled. “Love that place. Who was on set tonight?”

“House band. What about you? How was your visit?”

“Went well.” His gaze drifted to his bag and the envelope that stuck out. “Anyway, cher, you get yourself together. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m kinda beat.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She paused. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, cher. No matter what. Rest well.”

“I will.”

Rafe pressed the icon to end the call and tossed the phone toward the far end of the couch.


Chapter 6 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Generally, after talking with Rafe, she always felt better, secure, uplifted, everything but what she felt now. She slipped out of her robe, turned back the sheets and crawled under the covers. Something was wrong. She felt it in the tone of Rafe’s voice. It wasn’t what he said, but what he didn’t.

Had he brought up her concerns about the wedding and it didn’t go well? Had he gotten into it with his sisters? She should have told him not to say anything. She was a big girl and didn’t need her husband-to-be running to her rescue. She was skilled in dealing with insurmountable obstacles. How difficult could three sisters be?

She turned on her side and switched off the nightstand lamp, but it was hours before she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Alice was busy in the kitchen when Avery wandered in close to noon.

“Well, well, there you are.” She wiped down the counter with a damp cloth. “You were up late.”

Avery plopped down on a counter chair. “Couldn’t sleep after I got in last night. Thought watching television would help. Sorry if I kept you up.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl. Came down to make some warm milk and I saw the television light on under your door.” She came to stand beside Avery’s hunched form. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look like yourself.”

Avery forced a smile. “Who do I look like?” she teased.

Alice placed a comforting hand on Avery’s stiff shoulder. “Like a woman who needs to talk.” She sat down.

Avery blinked rapidly. She lowered her head and then glanced briefly at Alice. The only female in her life that she’d confided in was Kerry. Growing into womanhood without her mom, there was a reluctance inside that kept her from forming any female bonds for fear that the bond would be broken, taken from her like her mother was. She had no frame of reference for mothering, even as she desperately craved it.

Tears, unbidden, slid from her eyes. Instinctively, Alice gathered Avery in her arms and held her close, let her cry. Tenderly she stroked her back and cooed soft words into Avery’s hair. “Let it out,” she soothed. “It’s all right.”

“I’m s-orry,” Avery whispered and sniffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We all need a good cry every now and then.”

Avery sniffed harder, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and lowered her head.

Alice eased back but kept her hands planted on Avery’s shoulders. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” she gently asked.

Avery pushed out a long breath. “I don’t know how to handle being in this family, any family. I’ve had to go at it on my own for most of my life. Then there’s my career. It’s all about orders and following instructions, being on alert, suspicious.” She sighed. “In my life outside of work it’s the only time when I can pull away from the straitjacket of my everyday life. Now, with the wedding and Rafe’s family...all of those mixed feelings and experiences tumble all over each other and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Alice patted Avery’s thigh. “When you spend hours out of your day being on alert, looking for shadows in every corner, it’s got to be hard to let that go, to trust that there are folks that ain’t the boogeyman, that don’t intend to hurt you, that only want to get close because they really do care. Rafe loves you and you love him, and he’s not going to see you struggle against the weight of his overbearing family.” She wagged a finger. “At the same time, you gonna have to dig deep and find a space that you can open.” She smiled. “Burdens and troubles ain’t so heavy when you have help.” She tipped her head to the side. “How many weddings you planned?”

Avery’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened a bit but then closed.

“Hmm. Those girls, if they know nothing else it’s how to put a wedding together.” She chuckled. “Give them and yourself a chance. I understand the ties that bind you at work. You don’t get to speak up, only take orders, and it’s hard to break old habits. But...how ’bout this. Next time, you initiate the get-together. You call Dom or Desi and tell them your thoughts. One step at a time?” Her right brow lifted with emphasis.

Avery pushed out a breath. “You’re right. This is all so new to me.”

“As much as those Lawsons may fuss and feud with each other, the love and the bond that they have is unbreakable.” She squeezed Avery’s hands. “They want you to be part of that. And if you give it a chance, you might find what you’ve spent your life looking for.”

Avery wiped away the remnants of her tears and offered up a wobbly smile. “I’ll try.”

Alice winked. “Good girl. Now,” she planted her hands on her hips, “hungry?”

She smiled for real this time. “Starved.”


Chapter 7 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Avery finished her late breakfast, took a shower and went for a short run. She pushed through the stiff breeze wrapped in muggy air. Before she’d gone a little more than a block her skin grew damp and a line of perspiration dribbled down the center of her spine. Her limbs pumped. The fuel of adrenaline rushed through her veins, and clarity pushed through the cobwebs of her thoughts.

She loved Rafe. There was no doubt about that. Yes, she was overwhelmed by the rush of family, even a little scared. But if what Alice said was true, they wanted her to be part of who they were. She’d never had that before, but because she wanted a life with the man of her dreams she would find a way to work through her issues.

Avery rounded the corner and headed back to the house. Just as she slowed in front of the walkway, a car door opened and a man got out, blocking her path.

“Avery Richards, right?”

Her senses leapt to high alert. Instinctively her hand flew to her waist, where her gun would have been.

“Whoa!” He held up his hands. “Reporter.”

She frowned. “Reporter? What do you want?” Her nostrils flared.

“I was hoping I could get a statement from you.”

“I don’t give statements.” She tried to move, and he stepped into her path.

Her body flexed. “Step aside.”

“I was hoping you would give me a comment about your engagement to Rafe Lawson. Your father is Horace Richards, right? Senator Richards.”

Her head snapped to the right. “What did you say?” She took a step toward him and he flinched.

“Look, all I want is an exclusive for the paper. Playboy Lawson and heir to the family jewels hooks up with a senator’s daughter—a Secret Service agent—that’s news.”

“Get away from me.” This time she shoved him out of her way and started up the walkway.

“Are you staying here now? Have you moved in?” he shouted to her back.

Avery quickened her step, a beat short of a jog until she reached the front door. She took a quick look over her shoulder. The reporter snapped her picture. She opened the door and shut it solidly behind her. She leaned her back against it, felt her heart hammer in her chest.

Alice was walking toward her with a blue cloth shopping bag in her hand. She stopped halfway. “What is it?”

Avery vigorously shook her head. “Nothing. That run took more out of me than I thought.”

Alice hurried over. “Go in and sit down. I’ll get you some cold water.”

Avery forced a smile. “Thanks. That’s probably what I need.”

Alice went off to the kitchen. Avery pulled herself together and walked out onto the back deck. Now she was being followed by reporters? How in the hell did they know where she...of course, the papers announcing the engagement. She pushed out a breath of frustration and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. This was not good. The last thing she needed was to be followed around by reporters or photographed while she was on duty. Dammit!

Alice pushed open the screen door to the deck. “Here you go, sweetheart.” She extended the glass of ice water toward Avery.

“Thanks, Alice.” She took several long swallows before setting the glass down on the circular wrought-iron table.

Alice studied her for a moment. “Feeling better?”

Avery nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”

“Okay. Well, I have my daily errands to run. Shouldn’t take too long. Need anything while I’m out?”

Her thoughts swam. “Um, no. Thanks, Alice.”

Alice turned and went back inside.

Avery lowered herself onto one of the lounge chairs. What was she going to do? Rafe felt it best that she stay in his home so that she wouldn’t be alone. But clearly his house was being staked out. If there was one reporter, eventually there would be others. Going home might not be a better option. They probably knew where she lived.

She headed up to the bedroom, pulled out her suitcase and began to pack. Then she called Kerry.


Chapter 8 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Avery checked the bedroom. Satisfied that she hadn’t overlooked anything she shut the door and pulled her small rolling suitcase behind her. She made a quick stop in the kitchen to leave the note she’d written for Alice.

She took the extra set of keys that Rafe gave her and locked the door behind her. When she’d insisted that he drive her car to his house, it was more a matter of trying to maintain some sense of control. She turned the key in the ignition. Now it was her method of escape.

A little more than a half hour later she pulled up in front of Kerry’s house and parked on the street. She stared at the house. What was she doing? She wasn’t a runner. She didn’t run from problems to avoid confrontations. Guess there was a first time for everything. What she needed was some space to think. The very idea that she was being watched creeped her out in a way that being followed by her father’s private hire when she’d first started dating Rafe didn’t. This was different. She turned the car off just as Kerry’s front door opened, and she stepped out.

Kerry walked to the car. Avery got out.

“Hey, girl.” She opened her back door, pulled out her suitcase and came around to the sidewalk, where Kerry was standing. They hugged.

“You good?” Kerry asked, the concern etched between her brows.

“Yeah,” she said on a breath. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Girl, please. Come on in.” She draped her arm over Avery’s shoulders and they walked inside.

“Can I get you anything?” Kerry asked once they were settled inside.

“No. Thanks. Just want to sit here for a minute.”

Kerry plopped down in the side chair opposite Avery, just as her cellphone rang. Avery took the phone from her back pocket. “It’s Rafe,” she mouthed to Kerry, who eased out of her chair and walked away.

Avery dragged in a breath and pressed the talk icon. “Hey.”

“Avery, what’s going on? I got a call from Alice. She said you packed your bag and went to Kerry’s.”

“I got here a little while ago.”

“Why!”

“I went for a run this morning. When I was on my way back to the house, I was stopped by a reporter who wanted to know had I moved in. He wanted me to comment on our engagement.” She heard his muffled expletives. “I can’t be a target, Rafe. Especially now when I’m getting ready to go back to work.”

“I know,” he ground out. “I get it. Look, I’ll take care of it.”

“I really don’t see what you can do. This is the media. You know better than anyone they can be relentless, and if one of them is following me, there will be others.”

“Every media storm has its moment. This is going to disappear the minute something more interesting happens.” He paused. “Darlin’... I’m sorry. I don’t want any of this for you.”

“I know that. It’s not your fault. But I have to do this for now. I need you to understand that.”

“I don’t like it, but I get it. My only concern is you.”

She sighed softly. “How is everything back home?”

“So far...okay. I’ll see the family tomorrow. You’ll see the doctor on Monday, right?”

“Yes. I don’t have a choice if I want to go back to work.” She would do whatever she needed to do to get cleared. Even if it meant lying about what she was still going through.

“And the headaches?”

Avery closed her eyes and as if conjuring a spell the lie slipped over her lips. “I’m fine.”

“You would tell me, right?”

She hesitated a beat. “Of course.”

Rafe blew out a breath. “I’ll be back in about a week. Sooner if I can get everything tied up here. I need to fly up to New York, get with Quinten.”

“Can’t wait.”

“We’re gonna get through this, darlin’—walk down that aisle and into forever. Me and you.”

Her heart always shook loose from its anchor when he talked like that...about them, forever. She smiled. “’Kay.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.”

“I love you, Avery. No matter what.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” She disconnected the phone and wondered what he meant by “no matter what” again?

* * *

He had to get away from his thoughts at least for a little while. He went down to the garage and fired up his Harley. Not long after, he was racing along the blacktop with the thick Louisiana air whizzing around him.

The early Saturday-evening traffic was relatively light, allowing him to hopscotch across the three lanes at will. Beyond the ribbons of white and yellow lines, rooftops and spires, the sun took its final bow, stretching its fingers of orange and gold across the horizon in a last-ditch effort to cling to its illuminating power. Sunset always had a calming effect on him. As a kid, whenever he’d gotten into trouble at school or was feeling misunderstood, his mother, Louisa, would take him out on the back porch and they would watch the sun set over the lake that ran behind their home. His mother would remind him that the end of the day was the time to put all the happenings of the day to rest. It was the time to think about tomorrow and how to do things better or different. Funny he should think about that now.

Rafe bore down on the accelerator the moment there was an opening. He flipped down his tinted visor against the glare, leaned into the bike until they were one unit of flesh, bone and metal. Together they rode into the wind that pushed against him, tried to hold him back. This was what he did, who he was, even as the counsel of his mother still flowed through his veins. He pushed through the obstacles that tried to hold him back, whether it was his controlling father, who wanted to mold him into his image, a relentless media that chronicled his life and made up the rest, or the laundry list of wannabe matchmakers and conniving women that wanted nothing more than to claim the Lawson name. It was true that a bunch of what was in his way was a result of his own creation. He laughingly told his siblings that he had a “rebel gene” that compelled him to buck the status quo at every turn.

But in a few months he would be a husband, and if he wanted his marriage to last, he was going to have to permanently shake off the tentacles of his past and find a way to quiet, if not silence, the rebel in his soul.


Chapter 9 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)

Avery couldn’t seem to shake Rafe’s cryptic comment when they last spoke. If there was one thing that she’d learned about him in the time they’d been together, it was that Rafe Lawson was never vague. He said exactly what he meant, and the world be damned. It was one of the many qualities that she loved about him. His honesty and exactness made her feel secure, knowing that whatever he said, whatever commitment he made, it was for real. This was the first time she didn’t feel that way.

She stuck her feet in her flip-flop slippers. Kerry was on duty, doing a double. She had the house to herself until at least nine, and the emptiness of the two-bedroom condo echoed the sentiments of her stomach as she walked down the hallway to the kitchen. She passed the rows of framed black-and-white photos that hung singularly and in groups, telling the story of Kerry’s growing-up years with her two older brothers and sister, the vacations, holiday gatherings, her handsome exes. She stopped in front of one photo that captured the image of Kerry at her college graduation, flanked by her parents, who gazed at their daughter with unabashed love and pride.





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