# Sultry Nights

Donna Hill

Love can be risky business…*Her Rules Dominique Lawson lives life on her terms, making up the rules along the way. This beautiful Lawson twin and heiress to a glittering Louisiana dynasty goes after what she wants—and usually gets it. But Trevor Jackson seems immune to her charms. That’s until Dominique plots her all-out sensual assault on the blatantly sexy contractor, who’s as cool as they come. Now passion is heating up the southern sky.…*His PassionDominique may be his boss, but Trevor plans to show the pampered princess what desire is really about. Never mind that they clash on just about everything—it’s only a matter of time before the blue-blooded beauty is his. Can he convince Dominique that they belong together, now and for all the sensual nights to come? Lawsons of Louisiana

Love can be risky business…

*Her Rules

Dominique Lawson lives life on her terms, making up the rules along the way. This beautiful Lawson twin and heiress to a glittering Louisiana dynasty goes after what she wants—and usually gets it. But Trevor Jackson seems immune to her charms. That’s until Dominique plots her all-out sensual assault on the blatantly sexy contractor, who’s as cool as they come. Now passion is heating up the Southern sky....

*His Passion

Dominique may be his boss, but Trevor plans to show the pampered princess what desire is really about. Never mind that they clash on just about everything—it’s only a matter of time before the blue-blooded beauty is his. Can he convince Dominique that they belong together, now and for all the sensual nights to come?

Dominique swerved her chair from in front of her computer screen and slammed her knee into the desk when she caught her first glimpse of Trevor’s broad back, lean waist and tight behind.

White-hot pain shot up from her knee and exploded into tiny stars in her head. She gripped the edge of the desk and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.

But the real cause of the heat that flooded her cheeks and set her heart racing was when Trevor looked over his shoulder at the sound of the collision.

For a moment, she couldn’t think beyond the pain in her knee and the vision before her. Trevor Jackson was not the stumpy, balding, cigar-chewing, dirty-under-the-fingernails contractor that she’d expected. He was an Idris Elba look-alike, with the build and piercing dark eyes to cinch the deal. If he opened his mouth and spouted the King’s English, she was done. His right eyebrow lifted and she only wished her lashes were as naturally thick as his.

Concentrating on standing up without wobbling on her aching knee, she made it to her feet as he turned fully around. Her stomach fluttered.

“Mr.…” Her mind went blank.

“Jackson.”

Sultry Nights

Donna Hill


Dear Reader,

I hope you are all excited to finally get your hands on the third book in my Lawsons of Louisiana series. You’ve already met the family, and each of them has a story to tell. This time, feisty Dominique takes center stage when she comes head-to-head with Trevor Jackson. Dominique is spoiled, rich and used to getting what she wants. Trevor couldn’t care less, and that really ticks Dominique off. But things aren’t what they seem at all.

When I originally started thinking about my next Lawson book, it was titled Risky Business because, as we all know, mixing business with pleasure is nothing but trouble. And Dominique and Trevor have more trouble than either of them bargain for. Fortunately Trevor has a good friend in Max Hunt (Ladies, he is fine! with a capital F), and he can offer sound advice. (I know readers are going to want a story about Max!) And thankfully Dominique has her sisters and her good girlfriend Zoe (from Legacy of Love) to share her angst.

Of course the rest of the Lawson clan, as well as their significant others, will be making an appearance. So you will have a chance to catch up on everyone. I know readers have been asking for Rafe’s story. I’m saving him for me… I mean for later. So savor him while you can, because it’s going to take a special woman to tie him down.

In the meantime, put your feet up, grab something cold and welcome to the steamy, sultry world of Dominique Lawson and Trevor Jackson.

Until next time,

Donna

This book is lovingly dedicated to all of my readers who have continued to support my work for twenty-one years! I could not have done it without you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Spend My Life With You (Preview)

Chapter 1

Dominique Lawson frowned as she fussed with her father, Branford’s, bow tie. “Daddy, if you would stand still I can get it straight. What are all those guests going to say when they see the great Senior Senator Branford Lawson walking his daughter down the aisle with a crooked bow tie?” She adjusted the edges and smoothed the starched white collar of his tuxedo shirt.

“They’re gonna say those Lawson girls must be costing ole Branford a fortune with all these weddings.” He huffed in feigned annoyance and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “First Lee Ann and now Desi.”

“Well, Daddy, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be getting married anytime soon—if ever.” She patted his broad chest with a delicate hand. Her Vera Wang bridesmaid gown in a shimmering honey-tone rustled ever so softly when she moved away.

“You say that now. But when the right man comes along, you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“Don’t count on it. I love my freedom to come and go as I please. I love my independence as a business woman and I’m not ready to give that all up to kowtow to the whims of a man—especially on a regular basis.” She pursed coral-tinted lips.

Branford tucked in his smile. It was true, of his three daughters Dominique was in a class all by herself. She and her twin sister, Desiree, couldn’t be more different. Dominique was defiant against authority from the time she was in the crib. She was free-spirited and had more men sniffing at her heels than he would like. She enjoyed variety and her relationship attention span was like that of a five-year-old. He’d long ago lost count of whom she was seeing. And she spent money as if it grew on trees in the yard. It was a miracle that the non-profit organization she’d started hadn’t gone under. He was sure it was his eldest daughter, Lee Ann’s, wise but firm counsel that was the salvation for the business. Dominique was the female version of her older brother, Rafe, whom he’d all but given up on ever settling down.

“You two almost ready?” Lee Ann called out, poking her head in the bedroom door.

Whenever Branford looked at his daughter Lee Ann he saw the younger version of his beloved wife, Louisa, and his heart ached a bit at the memory. Lee Ann was delicate in a way that Louisa was not, but she had Louisa’s facial structure and the very same light in her eyes. She also had the uncanny ability to manage her life and the Lawson clan without missing a beat.

“Well, don’t you look ‘matron of honorish,’” Dominique said with a grin. “Love the new hairdo,” she added, acknowledging Lee Ann’s short, tapered hairstyle.

“Not looking too bad yourself, little sis.” Lee Ann came fully into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” Branford asked, checking his diamond cuff links.

Lee Ann’s face lit up from the inside at the mention of her husband, Preston. They’d been married less than a year and even with the hectic life of being a senator’s wife and all that entailed, the glow of being newlyweds had yet to wear off.

“He’s in the den talking music and football with Rafe and Justin and trying to stay out of everyone’s way,” she said laughing. “The decorators are finished. Downstairs looks like a wonderland. Oh, my goodness. And the yard is truly heaven. The caterers are setting up and the band should be here in about an hour. The guests are going to be blown away. Oh, the photographer is here, Dom. He wants to start getting some photos with us and Desi before we head over to the church.”

Dominique patted her hair. “Always ready for my close-up.” She hooked her arm through Lee Ann’s.

“You okay, Daddy?” Lee Ann asked as the sisters started for the door.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee Ann eased away from Dominique and walked back to her father. “I know you’re wishing Mama was here,” she said softly. She tenderly touched his strong jaw. “But she is.” She smiled, kissed his cheek then wiped the lipstick smudge with the pad of her thumb. “She would be very happy.”

Branford swallowed over the sudden knot in his throat, then cleared it roughly. “You all better go on and see about your sister.”

Lee Ann’s eyes lovingly flickered over her father’s face for a moment before she turned and joined Dominique.

* * *

Dominique tapped lightly on Desiree’s bedroom door. “It’s us,” she called out and opened the door.

Desiree was seated at her dressing table and spun slowly around on the stool when her sisters entered. Joy radiated from her like the morning sun blooming across the horizon.

Dominique’s hands went to her mouth, gasping in awe as she was struck by the vision that was her sister. She looked like a descended angel in the strapless ivory gown with its stitched bustier and tumbled layers of lace and organza that floated away from her small waist in a burst of diaphanous perfection. Her hair that she generally wore wild and free was pulled away from her face into a sleek bun that accentuated her sharp cheeks and wide eyes. A single white lily, reminiscent of Billie Holiday was tucked in her hair. Diamond studs that her mother, Louisa, and her sister Lee Ann had worn on their wedding days sparkled in her lobes.

“Oh, Desi,” Dominique whispered, quickening her step into the room. She reached for her sister’s hand. “You look…incredible.” She could feel her eyes begin to tear up and she sniffed hard. She was not going to ruin her makeup. “Girl, you are absolutely beautiful,” she said in an awed whisper. This was the woman who shared her same face but was as different from her as apples to oranges. Desiree’s idea of being fashionable was a business suit, and when she wasn’t in corporate mode she was behind the wheel of some race car in a grimy jumpsuit and a helmet. Dominique slowly shook her head. “Wait til Spence sees you. He’s gonna run up the aisle to meet you!”

The sisters burst into laughter.

Lee Ann stepped up to her younger sister and tenderly braced her shoulders. “You are going to make a beautiful bride, an amazing wife and awesome mom…when the time comes,” she added. “I’m so happy for you, sis.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” Desi said a bit breathlessly.

Their brother Justin knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “The photographer is getting anxious, ladies.”

“Send him up, J,” Lee Ann said.

“Looking good, baby bro,” Desiree called out.

Justin, the youngest of the Lawson brood, had truly grown into his looks, bypassing his older brother, Rafe, by an inch in height with a body that had filled out and become defined and sculpted from his weekly workout. Justin’s smooth mint-chocolate complexion made women want to run their hands across his face and check if those deep dimples were real. As much as he could have been a serious Louisiana playboy, Justin was totally focused on his education and following in the footsteps of his father.

Justin winked at his sister in response to her compliment. “I’ll send him up,” he said before shutting the door.

The sister’s did last-minute makeup and hair checks before the photographer arrived.

“Dom, have you settled on a contractor yet for the expansion of First Impressions?” Lee Ann asked as she added a hint more lipstick and straightened the diamond necklace that Preston had given her on their wedding day.

“The cutoff for bidding was last week Monday. I have to review all the submissions to see where I’ll get the best deal.”

“Don’t wait too long. With the new tax incentive initiatives for small businesses to hire and the infrastructure push across the country, good contractors will be getting scarce.”

Dominique adjusted the top of her dress. “Can you imagine that there might be a shortage of workers when for the past couple of years they had no jobs at all? The tides have finally started to change.”

“And not a minute too soon,” Lee Ann added.

“Okay, enough talk about business. Today is my wedding day. The only conversations should be what I’m going to wear—or not wear—on my honeymoon!”

They all laughed and slapped palms just as the photographer knocked on the door and the most important day in Desiree Lawson’s life was in full swing.

The realization that she was going to lose another sister was not lost on Dominique, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.

* * *

Every photographer in the state of Louisiana must have been camped out on the steps and the streets bordering Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church, hoping to get that money shot of the bride and groom and, of course, the political and entertainment figures that made up the Who’s Who guest list.

The forty-five minute service brought tears to the eyes of the most cynical of hearts when Desiree and Spence shared their personally written vows and professed their love for each other with God and four-hundred-plus guests as witnesses.

Yet, even with that many people on the guest list, the wedding planner and her team were miraculously able to make the reception feel intimate and personal from the seating arrangements to the decor.

The band played everything from zydeco to slow jams, R&B classics, to blues and jazz. Rafe joined the band and did a solo performance on his sax playing his rendition of “Just the Two of Us,” by Grover Washington, Jr. in tribute to his sister and new brother-in-law.

Dominique did what she did best, flit like a bee from one flower to the next, teasing, cajoling and mesmerizing. But even as she remained one of the bright lights of the lavish affair she couldn’t shake off a feeling of disconnect.

Everywhere that she looked, couples were laughing, hugging, kissing or looking for a corner to sneak away to. They all seemed to have someone to go home with, spend tomorrow and the day after with.

She reached for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and took a short sip as her toffee-colored eyes moved around the room. Paul LeMont, her date for the evening, came up alongside her and placed a light kiss on her exposed neck. She didn’t feel a thing, not a tingle, not a spark, even as the warmth of his lush mouth played against the fine veins of her throat and his whispered words hinted at what he had in store for her later. She would let him take her to his home tonight. Tonight of all nights she didn’t want to sleep alone. And sleep is all they would do.

Dominique turned into his embrace and looked up at his cover model face. “Let’s dance.”

Chapter 2

Dominique navigated her Mercedes coupe in the direction of her office, turning onto Magnolia Court North before making the left onto Main Street into the heart of downtown Baton Rouge.

“It was so good seeing you and Jackson and the kids at the wedding,” Dominique said, speaking into her headset to her best girlfriend, Zoe Beaumont-Treme. “I wish Cynthia could have made it.”

“Me, too, but she was with us in spirit from Paris. Your aunt Jacqueline looked incredible. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“I know. Neither have we. She writes to Rafe every now and then from wherever she may be with her job. But her and dad haven’t spoken since…Uncle David.”

“That’s really such a shame. When all else fails what you have left is family.”

“She said she may stay in Louisiana for a little while before she picks up her next assignment. Who knows maybe she and dad will find a way to work through things.”

“I hope so. Not to change the subject but I’m still wowing over your sister’s dress. Is she back from her honeymoon yet?”

“They came home last week. She looks fantastic. I still can’t believe Desi is married. She’s now Desiree Hampton.”

“Is Desi going to hyphenate her name?” Zoe asked.

“I don’t know. Why is it that women have to take the man’s name, anyway? It is so yesterday. Things are changing but not fast enough and until they do, I intend to hold on to my own.” Not that she had any immediate prospects in that regard, but that was beside the point. It was the principle.

“Girl, when the right man comes along I want to be a fly on the wall to hear what you have to say then.”

Dominique heard one of Zoe’s twins crying in the background. “I hear duty calling.”

Zoe laughed lightly. “Those are ‘we’re hungry cries.’ I’d better go. I’ll call you over the weekend. Maybe we can meet up for lunch.”

“Sure. Take care. Kiss the kids…and Jackson.”

“Will do. Bye, sweetie.”

Dominique heard the call disconnect in her ear. An odd feeling of sadness swept through her. She and Zoe and Cynthia had been friends since they were little girls. When Zoe moved to Atlanta a few years earlier to pursue her career as a curator at the High Museum, and Cynthia a year later to open her business, it was difficult but they still managed to get together. They took vacations, shared secrets and shoes, and then Jackson Treme stepped into Zoe’s life and everything changed for good. Now she was a married woman with two-year-old twins. But at least she and Jackson had moved back to Louisiana, so they did get to see each other more often, and Cynthia had been thinking of expanding her business and opening a secondary location back in her hometown of Louisiana. It would be great to have her girls back again.

Dominique pulled onto her street and drove around the corner to the small lot behind her building and parked her car, cut the engine, dropped her cell phone into her purse and got out. The alarm chirped as she pushed through the doors of the back entrance.

Getting First Impressions off the ground was Dominique’s pride and joy. Everyone in her very ambitious family—save for her older brother, Rafe—was involved in something important. Sure, she could have spent her days shopping and lunching and traveling, but with her best friends married or moved away she found her days becoming empty and meaningless. She wanted her father to be proud of her, too, and that would have never happen if she’d continued living her life the way she’d been living it. He’d threatened on more than one occasion to cut off her endless funds if she didn’t get her life together.

It was her older sister, Lee Ann, who had helped her to explore some of the ideas that had been running around in her head. If there was anything that Dominique was good at it was shopping and clothes. Her first thought was to open an exclusive boutique and use her many contacts to supply one-of-a-kind items.

“That’s wonderful,” Lee Ann had said, “but who needs another exclusive boutique? Who is that helping? What about supplying quality clothing for women who can’t afford them?”

That was the seed of the idea that materialized into First Impressions. It was a top-of-the-line clothing establishment that provided clothing to low-income women that were returning to the workplace or needed that special one-of-a-kind outfit for an event. It started off small, but after less than six months in business she could barely keep up. She had a full staff that screened all of the applicants, stocked the racks and kept up with inventory.

Dominique’s sense of style and understanding of what each woman needed to make them feel special was an integral part of the company’s success. Now, with a bit more than two years in business, she was ready to expand and include a training program for women as part of her services. To do that she needed more space.

For the past month she’d been reviewing applications from contractors and had finally narrowed down her search to one: T. Jackson Contracting. She’d heard great things about the company, and was impressed with their proposal. She had a meeting scheduled with the owner in less than an hour.

* * *

Trevor Jackson maneuvered his Range Rover down the narrow street, slowing periodically to search for the address. He stopped in front of the building with the teal-blue awning and plate-glass window. “First Impressions” was emblazoned in bright white letters. He turned the corner and found a parking space. He draped the strap of his camera around his neck, took his iPad to take notes and walked back to the entrance.

He opened the glass-and-wood front door and a bell chimed. From the outside the size was deceiving. It was much larger than he expected and everywhere that he looked there were racks and shelves of women’s clothing, shoes, purses and accessories in glass cases.

“May I help you?”

He turned toward the sound of the voice. A good-looking middle-aged woman in a crisp navy-blue suit and pale pink blouse approached him.

“Hi, I’m looking for Ms. Lawson. We have an appointment.”

“You must be Mr. Jackson.”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “I’m Phyllis. Dominique is expecting you. Let me show you to her office.”

They walked around the racks of clothing to the back of the showroom and then down a narrow hallway. The walls were lined with framed photographs of women in a variety of settings and outfits.

“Those are pictures of our ladies,” Phyllis said by way of explanation. “Most of them are single mothers getting back to work, or women who had been incarcerated and are starting life over again. Some are high school seniors that needed a prom dress. I was one of them,” she added.

Trevor didn’t try to guess which category she fell into.

Phyllis stopped and knocked on a closed door.

He faintly heard a voice from the other side say to come in.

Phyllis turned the knob and opened the door. “Mr. Jackson is here.”

“Thanks, Phyllis,” Dominique said from behind the frame of her computer screen. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Jackson,” she said and continued typing. “I’ll be right with you.”

Phyllis eased out and Trevor stepped inside. He took a quick survey of the small, totally feminine office and crossed the room to view the framed photographs on a chrome wall unit.

He’d seen pictures of the Lawson family in the newspapers and on television for years that spotlighted the high-class parties, the politics, the weddings and even the scandals that swirled around the oldest son. He’d had some doubts about bidding on the job. He’d had his share of rich folk and their “issues,” their demands and fickleness. It was his business partner, Max Hunt, who finally convinced him that it was worth doing. The work that the organization did—according to its brochure—fit into Trevor and Max’s sense of service to the community. Although he preferred to work in low-income neighborhoods and help the families in the 9th Ward rebuild, this would be his one corporate project for the year.

Dominique swerved her chair from in front of her computer screen and slammed her knee into the desk when she caught her first glimpse of Trevor’s broad back, lean waist and tight behind. White-hot pain shot up from her knee and exploded into tiny stars in her head. She gripped the edge of the desk and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.

But the real cause of the heat that flooded her cheeks and set her heart racing was when Trevor looked over his shoulder at the sound of the collision.

For a moment, she couldn’t think beyond the pain in her knee and the vision before her. Trevor Jackson was not the stumpy, balding, cigar-chewing, dirty-under-the-fingernails contractor that she’d expected. He was an Idris Elba look-alike, with the build and piercing dark eyes to cinch the deal. If he opened his mouth and out spouted the King’s English, she was done. His right eyebrow lifted and she only wished her lashes were as naturally thick as his.

Concentrating on standing up without wobbling on her aching knee, she made it to her feet as he turned fully around. Her stomach fluttered.

“Mr… .” Her mind went blank.

“Jackson.”

She forced a smile and wondered if she looked as suddenly unnerved as she felt. “Yes, sorry. Mr. Jackson. I’ve seen so many people this morning.”

Trevor let the comment go. Maybe she got a very early start, seeing that it was barely after nine. Either that or she was no different from the rest of the elite that he’d dealt with in the past who didn’t care enough to know the names of the people that they employ.

Dominique’s knee was pulsing in time to the thudding in her chest. She finally had the presence of mind to extend her hand in his direction. And what did she do that for?

Trevor’s large work-roughened hand enveloped hers. His long fingers wrapped around her palm and gently squeezed.

Heat sluiced through her veins, filled her body, loosened her inner thighs and made her tiny pearl stiffen and twitch.

He was a full head above her, even in her heels, and she was forced to look up at him to make contact with eyes that were framed with thick lashes and orbs that were inky black, almost bottomless. There was a slight squint to his gaze as if he was staring into sunshine.

“Is it okay if I sit down?”

Damn, was she staring? Only the flickering light of good home training kept her from snatching her hand away. “Of course.” She smiled and extended her scorched hand in the direction of the couch and briefly shut her eyes the instant he turned his back and willed herself to get it together—and grabbed the folder with his paperwork.

He would never know how stiff her knee was becoming the way she managed to catwalk across the short space to join him in the cozy seating area. She opted for the club chair and slowly eased down into the plush comfort of the seat. Her knee was on fire.

Trevor leaned back against the plump cushions and draped his arm across the back of the couch. The rolled up sleeves of his tan chambray shirt revealed the tight tendons of his arms and he looked quite comfortable, as if sitting in her office relaxed and nonplussed was something he did regularly.

Dominique ran her tongue across her dry bottom lip and then opened the folder that was on her lap. “So…” She glanced across at him and forgot what she was going to say.

“Yes?” The corner of his mouth flicked.

Dominique adjusted herself in her chair and switched her focus to the papers in front of her. “Well, as you know, my organization has plans to expand. We recently purchased the two floors above us and I need them converted into work space, well classrooms, a library and a resource center.”

“Right.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ve received dozens of proposals but yours met all of our criteria.”

He nodded.

Dominique swallowed. “If you’re still interested, we can discuss terms and when the work can get started.”

“I’d like to see the space.”

“Of course.” She started to stand and winced at the pain in her knee. She gripped the side of the chair.

Trevor was halfway to her side. “You okay?” He almost grabbed her but caught himself.

She bobbed her head. “Fine.” She pushed herself to a standing position. “I’ll show you the space.” She led the way out of her office, toward the back of the building and around to the side entrance that led to the upper floors.

Dominique gripped the wobbly wooden banister and gritted her teeth as she mounted the stairs. She was going to need some ice and not just for her aching knee.

* * *

Trevor dutifully followed Dominique up the stairs, trying to keep his mind on the steps and not the gentle sway of Dominique’s hips or the curve of her legs or the soft scent that she trailed in her wake. Fortunately, they wouldn’t have too much contact. Once work began he couldn’t imagine a woman like Dominique Lawson being in the mix of dust, buzz saws and sweaty men.

Chapter 3

Dominique opened the door onto the first floor that had once upon a time been an apartment.

“Here we are.”

Trevor took in the space. The wood floors were warped and coming up in spots and some of the boards were missing. It was clear that there had been major water damage from the stains on the ceiling and the buckling walls. The kitchen would have to be ripped out completely along with the bathroom. The two back rooms that must have served as bedrooms were in no better shape. He took pictures as they walked through the space. Then they went up to the top floor that was in a similar state of disrepair before returning to Dominique’s office.

Dominique stood in the center of her office and folded her arms in front of her. “So…what do you think?”

“Anything is doable. It will take some work but it can be done.” He walked past her and caught another whiff of the scent she was wearing before sitting in the chair she’d been in earlier. He could almost feel her warmth.

Dominique perched on the edge of the couch with her delicate ankles crossed.

“I’ll take a look at the pictures, talk it over with my partner and put some sketches together based on what you say you need. I can get back to you in about a week.”

“A week…is great. How long do you think it will take to complete?”

“Once work is started, barring any surprises, about two to three months.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea it could be done so quickly.”

He pushed up from his seat. Her gaze followed his rise.

“As I said, barring any obstacles.” He gave her a half smile. He tucked his iPad under his arm and extended his free hand.

Dominique placed her hand in his. “I’ll get the contracts drawn up as soon as I see the design,” she said, sounding a little breathless even to her own ears.

“Fair enough.”

“Can I offer you some coffee before you go?”

“Thanks. But no. I have another appointment.”

She offered a tight smile. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m good. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Inwardly she flinched. Was she being blown off?

She crossed the room to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Jackson.”

Trevor met her at the threshold. “I look forward to doing business with you, Ms. Lawson.” He walked out, stopped then turned. “You really should get some ice on that knee.”

The air got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed or ticked off by his offhanded comment. It wasn’t so much what he said, it was the delivery, as if he had one up on her.

She spun away from the door and her knee screamed. She slammed her office door shut, limped over to the couch and plopped down. For the first time she took a peek at her knee. It was already obviously swollen. Tenderly she placed her hand, the hand that was still warm from holding his, over the knee that throbbed beneath her touch.

Trevor’s half grin and probing eyes seemed to tease her as she replayed their meeting behind her closed lids. There was nothing special about Trevor Jackson. She’d been with much more handsome men, men with money, class and prestige, men who would do just about anything to be with her. So, what was it about Trevor that had gotten so quickly under her skin?

He’s just not that into you.

Her eyes fluttered open. Hmm. Not on her watch.

* * *

Why he drove around in pretty much a circle for nearly twenty minutes, he would never tell anyone. He couldn’t get her scent out of his head or the way she ran her tongue across her lips. He considered himself well educated, comfortable in any situation and articulate. But for the life of him he’d barely been able to string a full sentence together.

Finally, he wound his way back onto the right road leading out of town to his office in New Orleans. It was a miracle that he hadn’t run over someone’s cat.

He pulled into the angled parking space in front of the three-story brick building that housed his construction company. There are some things you know in life, and the one thing that he’d known since he watched his uncle Reggie, who was a carpenter by trade, hammer a nail, was that he wanted to build things. Once he was old enough he spent his summers as an apprentice on construction sites, learning the trade, working, sweating, getting his hands dirty and loving every minute of it. But as his uncle had told him over and over, having brawn wasn’t enough. He needed brains to go with it. So he went to school, got a BS degree in Construction Management and an MBA in Economics, both from Louisiana State University. Within two years of getting his construction management degree, he worked out a business plan, presented it to the bank and landed a small business loan that launched his first storefront office. At the time he was his lone employee, other than when he needed an extra set of hands, until Max came on board and signed on as a partner. That was nearly ten years ago. He was twenty-five and still wet behind the ears. Now he had a permanent staff of fifteen artisans, and subcontracts with dozens of other tradesman. He had one of the most successful privately owned construction companies in the state. He had more work than he could handle, but the one job he never turned away was his community service work, his way of giving back. Otherwise, he and Ms. Dominique Lawson would have never crossed paths.

Max Hunt was stepping out of his office door with a handful of blueprints when Trevor came in.

Max and Trevor had been best friends since grammar school. They liked the same things, sports, fishing, good music, hard work, a stiff drink and beautiful women. They’d been dubbed the Black Knights back in college, a reputation they seemed to have maintained into full manhood, matching each other stride for stride in the looks and sexual charm department except that Max resembled the clean-shaven Shamar Moore.

Max briefly glanced up then returned his attention to the blueprints. “Hey, man, how’d it go?” he asked, walking to the industrial copy machine.

Trevor took the camera from around his neck. “Pretty good.”

Max lifted the cover of the copy machine and placed the blueprints facedown. The machine hummed and began spitting out copies. Max frowned and turned his head in Trevor’s direction. “Pretty good. That’s it?”

Trevor shrugged slightly and took the memory card out of the camera. “Took a tour, she told me what she needed. Said we got the contract. I told her I’d get back to her in about a week with some design ideas.” He shrugged again. “That’s it. Nothing to tell.”

Max gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, right, my brother. What really happened?” He half smiled.

“What are you talking about? That’s it.”

“What did she look like in person?”

Trevor’s eyes flashed for a moment but he couldn’t stop the smile that slowly moved across his mouth. “Edible.”

Chapter 4

Dominique spent the rest of the morning with her leg propped up on a short step stool beneath her desk with a plastic bag of ice on her knee, while she read over the latest inventory reports. Although her family, her father and oldest sister, Lee Ann, in particular, used to ride her relentlessly for her insatiable desire to shop, it was an obsession that was paying off with style in her business. All those days of racking up the charges in boutiques across Louisiana, and as far away as Milan and Paris, and cooing the sales reps, shop owners and up-and-coming designers, Dominique had, unbeknown to her, been building a foundation. Now it was all paying off in major ways. Her contacts were more than happy to accommodate her with their overstock, sample items and huge discounts for her non-profit organization.

The women who came to First Impressions with their heads down walked out turning heads. And now she was ready to take her business to the next level and offer an education component that would include GED classes, financial management courses and interview preparation.

She turned to her computer screen and brought up the spreadsheet that included the staffing that she would need, along with the list of vendors that would supply the materials for the courses. If Trevor Jackson was on target with his completion date she would have to begin interviewing for instructors sooner rather than later.

Trevor Jackson. She leaned back in her seat. For the past hour she’d done well in casting him to the back of her thoughts. But much like a thunderstorm that was on the horizon, as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t ignore it. You knew it was coming.

“How’s your knee feeling?”

Dominique glanced up at her assistant, Phyllis. She smiled wanly. “Better thanks.” She lifted the ice pack off of her knee and noticed that the swelling was all gone. Gingerly she lowered her leg from the step stool. “How’s everything up front?”

“Good. The five new referrals will be here shortly.”

Dominique checked her watch. It was nearly one. “Great. Let’s order lunch and we can set up in the conference room.”

“Anything in particular?”

“How about some wraps and salad?”

“I’ll put in the order.” Phyllis paused for a moment. “So, how did the meeting go?”

Dominique glanced up for a moment then looked away. “Pretty good. I plan on giving him the contract. Mr. Jackson is going to work on some designs and get them to me next week.”

Phyllis nodded slowly, noting that the very direct Dominique barely looked her in the eye. “So, you think he’s the one?”

Dominique’s head snapped up as if she’d been caught stealing. “Huh?”

“I mean do you feel he’s the right person for the job?”

Dominique swallowed. “Yes. Why? Is there something that you know that I don’t?”

“Hmm, nope.” She tugged lightly on the hem of her suit jacket. “I’ll go put in the lunch order.” She turned away to hide her smile.

“Phyllis, wait.”

Phyllis stopped at the door. “Hmm.”

“You’re always so good at first impressions—no pun intended—what…do you think of him?”

Phyllis folded her arms beneath her ample breasts. “I think if his work is half as good as his looks, the addition will be a real showstopper.”

Dominique chuckled. “That’s the best answer you could come up with?”

“First impressions, right? Well, that honey was my first impression. The rest is up to you.” She gave Dominique a wink and walked out.

Dominique leaned back in her seat, tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth. Phyllis had been straight with her from the day they first met when she’d come to First Impressions needing a dress to attend her daughter’s graduation. Even though she was in need, there was an assurance and a dignity about her that made Dominique feel that Phyllis was the one doing something for her and not the other way around. She reminded Dominique of her mother with her directness, warmth, plain words of wisdom and her ability to make everyone feel special.

They’d hit it off that very first day and while they talked and searched for the perfect dress, Phyllis subtly organized shelves and lined up the clothes on the racks as she moved through the space, answered the phone when Dominique was with another client and even showed a few around the establishment while Dominique was discussing inventory with one of her vendors.

“Seems like you could use a little help around here when it gets busy,” Phyllis had said while Dominique wrapped up her purchase.

Dominique tilted her head to the side. “Are you busy?”

“As a matter of fact I have nothing but free time on my hands. I’d be more than happy to come in a couple of hours a day—just to help out,” she’d added.

The couple of hours had turned into full days in no time, and quicker than that Phyllis had become Dominique’s right-hand assistant. She came to depend on her for more than help with running the business. Phyllis had begun to halfway fill the shoes that the loss of her mother had left empty.

Which was why Dominique was perplexed by Phyllis’s vague response to her question. Phyllis may be a lot of things, but ambiguous was not one of them.

As much as she wanted to dwell on Trevor Jackson, she didn’t have time. The women would be arriving shortly and she needed to be focused so that she could provide each lady with the attention that she deserved. But no matter how hard she tried to stay on point during the next two hours, images of Trevor kept popping up in front of her.

* * *

Trevor loaded the images from his camera onto the twenty-seven-inch iMac. He pointed out the major problems to Max and they both took notes. Trevor explained what it was that Dominique wanted and for the next few hours they worked on a series of sketches for the revised layout of the two floors.

“I want to give her at least two options for each floor,” Trevor said. He raised his arms over his head, stretching out the tight muscles in his back.

“By the looks of the walls and the plumbing issues that you mentioned, the problem isn’t going to be in the design but what we find behind the walls,” Max said.

Trevor nodded. “Exactly.” He closed the screen that showed the design plans and pulled up the file with their subcontractors. “We’re going to need a lot of hands on this one.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. The guys like working with us. At least they know when they come to T. Jackson Contracting its not going to be a one-day job.”

“And this will definitely last a few months. I think we should get Ray for the plumbing and Joshua for the electric. They’ve done good work for us before and have solid teams.”

“As soon as the plans are approved I’ll start looking into supplies and getting the permits in order.”

“Cool.” Trevor pushed back from his seat.

“Don’t think I forgot about your comment, my brother.”

Trevor’s thick right brow rose. “What comment?”

“You know damn well what comment… Edible. You really think I’m going to let that one slide?”

Trevor half smiled. “Just an observation, that’s all.”

“Man, I know you better than you know yourself. When was the last time some woman had you at a loss for words? You could barely put a sentence together when you got back.”

It had been a while since a woman had lit a match inside of him. Five years to be exact and her name was Vallyn Williams. To this day, simply thinking about her knotted his stomach. Vallyn had burst into his life and took him on a roller-coaster ride that he’d never wanted to end. He should have known better. They came from two different worlds. She was the daughter of a judge and her mother sat on every board in the state of Louisiana. She grew up vacationing at Martha’s Vineyard and the Hamptons. Her college graduation gift was a six-month trip across Europe.

“Trust me, it’s nothing but an observation. End of story.”

“Hmm, yeah, okay.” He gathered up his notes. “Got any plans for later? I feel like hitting a club, listening to some music, checking out some ladies. You game?”

“I’m down. Say around nine?”

“Yeah, I have some stuff to take care of at the house. I’ll give you a call around nine and we can figure out where we wanna hang.” He tucked his drawings under his arm and checked his watch. “I’m heading out. I want to check up on the crew over at the Jennings job.”

“We should be ready to turn the house over to the family pretty soon.”

“If everything is up to par, I figure by next week.”

The Jennings family had been victims of Hurricane Katrina. For the past five years they’d been living in a trailer with their three kids. Those were the projects that Trevor was most proud of. Seeing the faces of the families whose homes he’d restored or built was worth every ounce of sweat.

“That’s what I like to hear. Okay, you take care of that and I’m going to put some finishing touches on these design proposals then head out.”

“See you later.”

Trevor opened the design program and reviewed the tentative layout. He could almost see Dominique walking through the renovated space and the expression on her face when she saw the transformation. He shook his head. Thinking about a woman like Dominique Lawson in a role other than employer would bring him nothing but trouble. That was the one thing he was sure about.

Chapter 5

Dominique put her key in the door and was gripped with the feeling of regret. She probably should have moved out of the family home a long time ago. With both her sisters gone, her father in Washington most of the year, Rafe doing his own thing and Justin busy with school and work, she felt like a fish out of water rambling around in the big house. So, she could have not been more surprised when she walked into the kitchen and found both of her sisters seated at the island counter chatting like they’d done as teenagers.

“Oh, my goodness!” She dropped her bag on the table and ran to her sisters.

The trio kissed and hugged and giggled in delight.

“What are ya’ll doing here?” She glanced from one to the other in amazement as they took seats around the counter.

“This is a big legislative week on Capital Hill. Preston is working almost twenty-four hours a day. I told him I was going home for the weekend and he nodded and waved,” Lee Ann said, laughing. “I still don’t think he realizes I’m gone.”

“And what about you, Mrs. Hampton? You’re still a newly, newlywed, girl. I’m surprised Spence let you out of the bed.”

Desiree blushed and flashed a secret smile. “I know.” She giggled. “Well, you know Spence is opening a third club in the D.C. area. He’s meeting with contractors and visiting sites all weekend. And I wanted to see my sisters. I called Lee Ann and here we are.”

Dominique felt tears well in her eyes. She’d had no idea how much she missed her sisters until this moment. She sniffed. “Then we have to make every minute count. No telling when we’ll get a chance to hang out again.”

“Exactly,” Desiree agreed. “So, what’s the plan? You’re the party girl.”

Dominique’s eyes crinkled with mischief. “Ladies, my list is long and varied, so be prepared for anything. And put on your dancing shoes,” she added, hopping up from her seat.

“Sounds like…a Dominique plan,” Lee Ann teased.

“Just be ready by nine,” Dominique warned, waving a finger at her sisters.

* * *

“You think I’ll have time to get some racing in this weekend?” Desiree asked as they started off toward their rooms.

Dominique and Lee Ann groaned in response.

* * *

The sisters-only weekend didn’t seem nearly long enough. But the trio had squeezed in as much time together as they possible could. Friday night they drove into New Orleans and visited three clubs in the Quarter. Up with the sun the following morning, they headed for a full day of pampering at their favorite day spa, Body Envy, that came complete with facials, a full body massage, manicure and pedicure, and lunch with champagne spritzers. And what would a day be without shopping on the list?

By the time they returned to the Lawson mansion on Saturday, the sun had set, but they’d been coddled and primped and loaded down with shopping bags.

“I should have gotten that pair of gray suede boots,” Dominique complained as she balanced her bags under one arm and propped on her raised knee while she stuck the key in the lock. “They would have gone perfectly with that jacket.”

“Sis, you have enough shoes to outfit a foreign empire,” Lee Ann teased as she struggled through the door with her own bags.

“Maybe a tiny empire,” Dominique tossed back. “Not a big one.”

“You do need another zip code for your shoes,” Desiree added, depositing her oversize bags near the foyer table.

Dominique turned to her twin. “I’m surprised that you needed more than a tote bag, Desi. Everything you bought was no more than a few colorful frilly strings tied together to look like an outfit.” She shrugged out of her cropped leather jacket and hung it in the closet.

Desiree blushed and feigned embarrassment. “Can I help it if Spence only wants to see me in next to nothing when we close the bedroom door?”

“Girl, don’t start,” Lee Ann added. “I swear Preston has gotten worst since we’ve been married. He’s totally into garters and those little demi bras now.” She giggled. “I have an entire drawer full.”

Lee Ann and Desiree laughed and chatted and laughed some more about the myths of married sex life, something that Dominique could in no way relate to. They oohed and ahhed about the feel of waking up each morning with someone you loved, being eager to see them at the end of the day and never worrying again about your “date” for a big event.

Dominique sat at the table and nodded and smiled in all the right places. For the first time in her life she felt like the outsider, the fifth wheel, the tagalong. When it came to the Lawson sisters she was always the center of attention, the diamond that sparkled the brightest. She was the party girl, the one that the men flocked to and fell over. She was the one with a suitors’ list that was the Who’s Who of Louisiana. She was never without a date or a man to warm her bed at night. But sitting there listening to her sisters made her life suddenly seem vapid and pointless. Did you really need a man to make you complete? She’d never believed that before and wasn’t sure if she did now. Yet, as she listened to her sisters, two of the most free-thinking, independent women she knew, talk about the men in their lives, it was as if they had suddenly bloomed to life under the sun of their husbands’ gazes.

Lee Ann and Desiree jumped at the sound of Dominique’s palms slapping down on the table. “Enough, okay.” She cut a look from one sister to the other. “I get it. You’re both in love and can’t stop talking about it.” She pretended to gag.

Lee Ann leaned back in the swivel stool and folded her arms. “Is that jealousy I hear coming from Ms. ‘nobody is going to tie me down?’” she asked, her right brow rising every so slightly.

Two pair of doe-brown eyes settled on Dominique. She made a face.

“Jealous! Humph. You have got to be kidding? Look, you know me, I have more than I can handle. So, let’s not even go there,” she added, waving her finger back and forth.

“Me thinks thou doest protest too much,” Desiree said in a poor imitation from Shakespeare. She flashed a grin.

Dominique rolled her eyes.

“Mmm,” her sisters harmonized in disagreement.

“When you finally get the one that hits that spot…” Desiree closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. Her body quivered just a little.

Desiree and Lee Ann giggled some more and regaled over Desiree’s recent wedding and reception.

Dominique sat back, apart, letting her thoughts join the conversation but not her heart. So much had happened that day. She’d lost another sister to the magic of love and marriage, and her aunt Jacqueline, the woman whom she emulated, had thrown her a serious curve ball. As quiet as it was kept, the conversation had struck a nerve and she’d been unsettled ever since. The words still played havoc with her nonchalant attitude.

“So, Desi has finally gone and done it,” Jacqueline Lawson said, easing alongside Dominique.

The night air was filled with the scent of jasmine, expensive perfumes and colognes, and the tantalizing aromas of the massive spread that had fed the four-hundred guests. The sun was settling down across the horizon. The final rays spilled like overturned cans of paint across the lawn, the white tents and twinkling lights, bathing all in a wash of gold and orange. Laughter bubbled like the champagne in Dominique’s flute.

She inhaled a soft sigh. “That she has.” She turned toward her aunt. Jacqueline Lawson epitomized everything that Dominique envisioned for herself—brains, beauty, class, style and a fierce sense of independence and individuality.

“Anyone special in your life?” Jacqueline asked.

Dominique waved her hand as if to dismiss the question. “Oh, you know Aunt J, I’m not the settling down to one man kinda girl. It’s fine for Desi and Lee Ann, and Zoe, too. But I’m going to be just like you when I grow up,” she teased.

Jacqueline glanced away then. “I believed that fairy tale once upon a time.” She took a sip from her flute. Her gaze seemed to see beyond the horizon.

“Fairy tale?” Dominique almost choked. “You sure you haven’t had too much champagne, Auntie?” She laughed. Jacqueline didn’t. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

Jacqueline placed a delicate hand on Dominique’s bare shoulder. “Let’s simply say that I’ve been there and done that and doing it alone…is not all that it’s cracked up to be.” She looked directly at Dominique. “There will come a time in your life when having someone that means something to you, and you to them, will be the only thing that matters. What the shame is—” she finished off her champagne and deposited the empty flute atop the tray of a passing waiter “—is discovering at that crucial point that no one is there but you.”

Dominique frowned. It had been a lot of years since her aunt had set foot in the Lawson mansion. The rift between her and her brother, Branford, affected the whole family. But it didn’t stop Dominique from idolizing her aunt; that made what she said that much more unsettling.

“Aunt J, is there something you’re not saying? Is there some other reason why you came back after all this time?”

Jacqueline patted Dominique’s cheek. “Don’t mind me, sugah. One glass too many has made me all silly and nostalgic.” She flashed her famous smile and sauntered away, but Dominique wasn’t able to shake off the feeling that her aunt wasn’t telling her everything.

“Earth to Dom. Earth to Dom,” Lee Ann called out, waving her hand in front of Dominique’s face.

Dominique blinked away the images and tucked the conversation away, something she hadn’t shared with her sisters. “Sorry. What were you two waxing poetic about again?”

Desiree hopped down from the stool. “All wasted energy Lee, trying to change this girl’s mind.” She stretched her arms high above her head. “I’m going to take a long hot bath and turn in. Early flight in the morning,” she added, looking at Lee Ann.

Dominique stood between her sisters and wrapped her arms around them. “Now, if I tell you two something, I don’t want either of you to blow it out of proportion.” She glanced from one to the other. “I met someone.”

Desiree and Lee Ann’s eyes widened.

“You?” from Desiree. “But what else is new?”

“You mean another someone, right?” Lee Ann teased.

Dominique stepped out of the circle. “Laugh all you want.” She folded her arms.

“A minute ago you were the poster girl for independence. Now you want us to believe that you found someone that’s going to last beyond the thirty-day expiration date.”

“Fine! Laugh.” She snatched up her purse and was about to stomp away.

“Okay, okay, we’re sorry,” Dominique pleaded. “Don’t be like that. We were just teasing.”

Lee Ann took Dominique’s hand. “So…who is it?”

Dominique tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment before blurting out, “Trevor Jackson.”

Chapter 6

It had been more than a week since his meeting with Dominique Lawson. They hadn’t spoken since that day at her office until the phone rang.

“T. Jackson Contracting.”

“Good morning, this is Dominique Lawson. How are you Mr. Jackson?”

Hearing her voice was like a sudden shot of adrenaline that made him knock over his mug of coffee. Its contents splattered across the blueprint for a job that Max had just given him. Trevor blurted an expletive and jumped out of his seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. Not you.” He looked around frantically for some paper towels or napkins. “I’m fine, thanks.” He pulled open one of the drawers and grabbed a wad of napkins. He sopped up the mess the best he could while cradling the phone against his ear.

“Did I catch you at a bad time? I can call back. It sounds like you were in the middle of something.”

“No, not at all. A minor mishap.” He tossed the soggy napkins into the wastebasket.

“I have the contract ready for you to look over if you have the designs completed. Fair exchange?” She laughed lightly.

He looked at the mess he’d made and knew it would take him a few hours to redo the drawings. “Actually, they are. I was putting on the finishing touches.” He lowered himself into his seat.

“That’s good news. I’m tied up all day today but if you’re free, let’s meet for dinner. I can bring the contract. You can bring the designs. We can talk, relax… .We both have to eat right?”

“Tonight? Sure. That sounds fine. Do you have someplace in mind?”

“I was thinking of Blanche’s Chateau on Montgomery and 9th. Do you know the place?”

Did he know the place? Who didn’t know about the Chateau? The prices weren’t listed on the menu. You needed a reservation weeks in advance just to be lucky enough to get a seat by the kitchen. Everyone who was anyone ate there at some time or another. It was someplace that was not on his frequently visited list. Truth was, he’d never set foot in the place. He supposed this was Dominique’s way of reminding him of her name and money.

“Sure, I know where it is.”

“Perfect. I’ll call over and make sure that Charles gets us a good table.”

You do that. His jaw clenched.

“Does eight o’clock work for you?

His temples pounded. “I’ll see you then.”

“Oh, if you get there before me just let them know you’re meeting me. They’ll take good care of you.”

“I’m sure they will.” He was biting down so hard that he was on the verge of cracking a tooth.

“See you at eight,” she said, her voice full of cheer.

“Eight.”

It took all he had not hurl the phone across the room. Instead, he pushed back so hard from the chair that it went slamming against the wall, rattling the framed company licenses that hung there.

“That uppity…” He ran his hand across his face then his head and started to pace the cramped space. “Who does she think she is, anyway? Am I supposed to be impressed…intimidated…embarrassed? This her way of showing me who’s boss?”

“That bad that you’re talking to yourself?”

Trevor’s pacing hitched for a second when he saw Max in the doorway then resumed.

“What the hell happened in here?” His eyes widened in alarm. The wall plaques and certificates were askew. If he wasn’t mistaken it looked like a small pool of light brown liquid had found a home at the foot of Trevor’s desk. He focused on the top of the desk. “Is that my blueprint?” He hurried into the room and lifted the limp page from the desk. “Aw, man, you got to be kidding me.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Trevor snapped.

“You got that right. How’d you manage this and what has you so pissed off, anyway?”

“Her.”

“Come again.”

“Her. Dominique Lawson.”

“I would ask for some coffee to get my thoughts to catch up to yours but it’s spilled all over my blueprint.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Trevor.

“I guess you’re gonna have to verbally bring me up to speed. What does she have to do with your foul mood and this fiasco?”

Trevor heaved a deep breath. “I just got off the phone with her and you know what she did? She invited me to dinner at some snazzy restaurant.” He went on to explain the phone conversation.

By the time Trevor was finished, the small snickers that Max had held in erupted into full-blown laughter.

“Man, you have got to be kidding me. A beautiful woman invites you to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the state of Louisiana and you’re pissed off. What you need to be doing is getting your one suit out of the cleaners.” He chuckled some more.

“I’m glad I can amuse you. It’s my calling.”

“Look, man, I’m sorry. But for real… What’s the problem? You could probably buy and sell that place without blinking an eye.”

“That’s beside the point. She doesn’t know that. She thinks I’m some dusty, working slob that needs a job.”

“And whose fault is that?” Max looked him in the eye.

Trevor turned away.

“I know you have your reasons for remaining Mr. Anonymous, but don’t get ticked when folks buy into the charade.”

Trevor rubbed his chin. “I have more than one suit, you know.”

“Really? You mean you bought one since college graduation?”

Trevor’s features creased. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Very funny. I should go like this,” he said, and stretched out his arms to display his plaid work shirt, faded jeans and construction boots.

“Forget about the front door. You wouldn’t get past the parking lot.” He took the damp blueprint and draped it over the drafting table to dry. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Where?”

“My tailor does amazing work. And he’s fast. I can’t have you going to the Chateau and ruining my rep.”

“Your rep?”

“Yeah, it might get out that we’re business partners. I go there at least once a month when I have a lovely lady that I want to impress. And the suites upstairs…”

“Suites?”

“Yes. About a half dozen. Damned hard to secure one, though if you do, trust me, it’s well worth it.”

“I take it you’ve “secured one” from time to time.”

“Of course.” He grinned.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Max Hunt was not only a savvy businessman and brilliant designer, but a connoisseur of all things expensive: clothes, cars, homes and women. He didn’t have the same hang-ups that Trevor did about the millions that they had amassed over the years, much of which was due to Max’s astute understanding of the financial markets and Trevor’s keen sense of what was going to take off and what wasn’t. Together they were a formidable team, and as opposite on most issues as day and night—clothing being one of them.

“Trust me, he’ll hook you up and believe me, my brother—” he stepped up to him and straightened the collar of his un-ironed plaid shirt “—you could really use it.”

Max adjusted his burgundy tie and fastened the single button on his metal-gray Armani suit jacket that Trevor guesstimated cost at least a thousand dollars.

“How much is this going to set me back, Max?”

“Price is not a factor when you’re trying to impress a woman.”

“Who said I was trying to impress a woman?”

Max grinned. “You didn’t have to. It’s all over my blueprint.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Zoe was saying as she bounced one twin on her thigh and bottle fed his sister in the stroller.

Dominique looked on in amazement. It was still hard for her to put “mommy” and Zoe Beaumont-Treme in the same picture, but here she was. Totally domesticated, like a lioness that was raised by humans. Dominique fully expected that one of these days Zoe was going to realize that she was supposed to run free in the wild and she’d show up on her doorstep with a suitcase and a plane ticket to the Caribbean, saying, “let’s go.” But when Dominique witnessed the expression of pure adoration in Zoe’s eyes when she looked at her babies, Mikayla and Mikai, she wasn’t so sure if that day would ever come.

“You told Lee Ann and Desi that you met someone and that someone is your contractor?” she asked in utter disbelief.