A Scandalous Affair

A Scandalous Affair
Donna Hill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my three beautiful children, Nichole, Dawne and Matthew, who teach me every day what hard work and true love are all about. And my incredible grandkids, Mahlik, Mikayla and Caylib. You guys rock!

Dear Reader,

If you have this hot little book in your hands, I can guarantee that you are in for a treat! When sisters fall for the same sexy, available man, there is bound to be trouble. Throw in some political intrigue and Vaughn Hamilton and Justin Montgomery from Scandalous, which was reissued in October, and it’s sure to be a page turner.

This two-book series was definitely one of my favorites and has stood the test of time.

As always, I thank you for your love and continued support. Happy, happy reading!

Until next time,

Donna

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

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 1

Associated Press—In a massive march staged to protest the alleged shooting death of African American Roderick Fields by four white police officers, more than 200 angry residents filled the streets last night in front of Washington, D.C.’s police headquarters at 300 Independence Avenue N.W. The protest was led by civil rights activist Samantha Montgomery, daughter of noted legal defense attorney Justin Montgomery and Congresswoman Vaughn Hamilton-Montgomery (D-Va.), working in unison with several local organizations and unions. Montgomery, who has been extremely vocal concerning police abuses, later said in a statement: “The police in this city have declared open warfare on the African American. This is the sixth gangland-style shooting death by police against ‘alleged’ suspects of the African American persuasion in eight months,” Montgomery vehemently stated under the white heat of camera lights and photographers’ flashbulbs. “It is painfully obvious that DWB, or driving while black, is a crime punishable by death in this city—and it will stop.”

Roderick Fields, an eighteen-year-old African American, was gunned down in a hail of bullets during an alleged routine stop and search on Eighteenth Street N.W. around midnight on Monday. His two male companions were also hurt. One youth is listed in grave condition with a gunshot to the head, while the other is described as seriously critical with a bullet lodged in his spine.

In a hurriedly announced late-night press conference, a police spokesman identified the four officers involved in the alleged shooting as Detectives Alan Montana, Josh Hamlick, Lawrence Stavinsky and Vincent Dorsey. None of the officers have made statements to the media, but according to their lawyers, they were acting in selfdefense.

Montgomery’s stepsister, City Councilwoman Simone Montgomery, has been equally assertive in her cry for sweeping police reform and a federal probe into recent abuses during her ongoing campaign for the Assembly seat in her district. The councilwoman was unavailable for comment on this latest incident, according to her spokesman, Adam Parsons.

Although tensions were high, there were no injuries or arrests during last night’s protest. A date for a hearing for the officers has not been set but a preliminary meeting with law enforcement officials to discuss procedures used in the fatal incident is slated for this week, according to a police statement. The mayor’s office has not issued any comment on the march.

Laying The Washington Post on the seat next to him, Chad Rushmore closed his eyes and clenched his teeth in seething disgust. Nothing ever changes, he thought.

He turned his gaze, unseeing, out of the 747’s window, the clouds floating by in a silent stream. He’d spent the last four years touring third-world countries, analyzing international and civil rights laws. He’d seen atrocities that haunted him at night, broke him into cold sweats during his dreams. To return home to a country that prides itself in justice for all, only to see affirmative action overturned, the Voting Rights Act under review, black men hunted like animals and gunned down in streets across the country by police, was to him worse than anything he’d witnessed abroad.

He folded the newspaper in half and stuck it inside the pocket of the seat in front of him. He adjusted his seat and leaned back, finally shutting his eyes to rest. The plane was due to land at Ronald Reagan International Airport in two hours.

It would be good to be back home again. See everyone again. Inwardly, he smiled—Simone and Samantha. They made a formidable team. And he would need all of their skills, all of their energy and resources for what he had in mind.

Justin Montgomery paced, panther-like, across the polished hardwood floors of his artfully designed office. His wife, Vaughn’s, distinctive touch was everywhere, from the placement of the original artwork by Basquiat, Catlett, and Biggers, to the crystal glasses and decanters that glistened like diamonds in the small wet bar on the far side of the spacious but comfortable office. He had to put his foot down when it came to his desk, however. She wanted him to have something contemporary; he insisted on something customary and impressive. So they settled for a rectangular oak desk with a cherry lacquer finish. Women, they had totally taken over his life, he mused not unkindly. And now his daughter Samantha was at it again, and he didn’t know if he wanted to burst with pride or turn her over his knee and give her a good spanking.

He turned toward her, his expression a mixture of anger and frustration. His brows drew together. “Did you read this?” he barked, barely containing his ire, not so much at the comments that his headstrong daughter made—once again—but at what could have happened to her as a result of them.

Samantha crossed her long legs and stared at her father head-on. “Are you going to tell me that I’m wrong?” she challenged, loving to duel with the razorsharp mind of her father. In court, she watched him run circles around the prosecution, hypnotize juries, and simply charm the media. He embodied everything she looked for and respected in a man: integrity, brilliance, a generosity of spirit, loving, funny and handsome. Any man coming into her life would have large shoes to fill.

Justin halted his pacing. “Sam, we’ve been through this a million times. Spouting incendiary comments in the middle of a high-tension situation is not only dangerous, it’s foolish! What if a riot had broken out? You could have been hurt,” he added, “or arrested—again.”

Samantha bit back a smile, not wanting to incite him any further. She released a sigh, then stood. “Dad,” she said as she walked across the room to stand in front of him. She slid her arms around his waist. “You worry too much. I’m a big girl. And you should know me well enough by now to know that I’m going to speak my mind and if it upsets a few people, well…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I get my name in print,” she added, teasing him with a smile.

“This isn’t a joke, Samantha,” he returned, trying to keep a straight face. But the truth was his daughter had the uncanny ability to wrap him around her finger with a simple smile. He knew he overindulged Samantha, but it was only because he’d missed so many years of her life when his ex-wife, Janice, her mother, disappeared with her. He’d been so devastated by the loss of his daughter that he’d single-handedly launched Child-Find, an organization dedicated to finding abducted children and reuniting families who’d been separated. But it was Samantha’s determined spirit that brought them together. The same defiant spirit that kept her name and provocative actions on the front page of the newspapers.

Coincidentally, it was Child-Find that reunited his stepdaughter, Simone, with her mother, Vaughn. His and Vaughn’s marriage had not only united them as man and wife, but made sisters of Samantha and Simone—the two most willful, stubborn, single-minded young women he’d ever run across, barring his beautiful wife, of course. He was surrounded by them, and if he didn’t stand his ground, they’d likely railroad him into anything, with their sweet smiles and sparkling eyes. And he loved them all, madly. He hoped that, with Chad returning to the States and back at the law firm, the two of them could manage to level the playing field just a bit. Chad did have a way of keeping Simone on simmer. Samantha, however, was a different story.

Justin kept his poker face, eased away from Sam’s embrace, strolled toward his desk, and sat down in the leather chair he’d spent years getting to conform perfectly to his body. Vaughn begged him to get rid of “that ratty old chair,” but it was the one concession he would not budge on. A man had to have something. Besides, it felt too good, especially after a grueling day in court.

He swiveled his chair so that he faced his daughter. He stroked his smooth brown chin. “What are you planning to do, Sam? You have everyone all charged up about this case. Now what?”

Samantha Montgomery pressed her lips together, thoughtful for a moment—her even, dark golden features the perfect landscape for incredible gray-green eyes, just like her mother Janice’s—and settled into that expression that boldly faced the cameras. She crossed her arms.

“I intend to take this as far as it will go, Dad. All the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. I’ll rally the people together, we’ll march on Capitol Hill, outside the precincts, we’ll have all-night vigils—I’ll do it by myself if I have to, but I will be heard. These people will be heard. I won’t sit back twiddling my thumbs when there’s open warfare on the minorities of this country. I can’t. And I don’t think you expect me to.”

Justin stared at his daughter, and he knew by the fire in her eyes and voice that she meant every word of it. And nothing in heaven or on earth would stop her.

He breathed deeply, afraid for her and incredibly proud at the same time. He and Vaughn had their hands full with their two fiery daughters. Samantha and Simone’s relationship was phenomenal. They were closer than many blood sisters, sharing everything from clothes to opinions. Nothing came between them. They fed off each other, fueled the energy that kept them both in the limelight. Now, with this latest incident, Samantha was campaigning in the street and Simone was active on the legal front, pressuring the Attorney General to launch an investigation. This was just the beginning, and he knew it. Thank heavens they were both grown and living in their own apartments. Three of them in the same house would be more than any man should be compelled to endure.

“What can I do to help?” he finally asked.

A half smile inched up the side of Samantha’s mouth. She tipped her auburn head of shoulder-length dreadlocks to the side. “Keep some money in reserve—just in case I get arrested again.”

Chapter 2

Simone maneuvered her midnight blue Mazda 626 expertly around the snakelike traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue. It was nearly six-thirty, and rush hour—truly a misnomer—continued in earnest.

A copy of The Washington Post lay folded on the passenger seat. The high school graduation picture of shooting victim Roderick Fields smiled back at her, full of hope and possibility. She could feel the anger tug at her insides and burn her throat. She’d spent the better part of her morning talking with his distraught parents and the families of the two surviving victims. It was a painful process, made more so by the senselessness of it all. Yet even more frightening was that the Roderick Fields case was not an isolated incident. The number of unwarranted police shootings of unarmed black men was making a steady and terrifying rise across the country.

Sighing, Simone tried to push the events of the day behind. She would meet with her staff in the days and weeks to come to discuss a plan of action as well as how best to incorporate her ideas of police reform into her campaign for the Assembly seat.

Right now, what she wanted was to concentrate on the visit to her parents’ home.

Simone checked the time on the dashboard. If traffic held steady at its snail’s pace, she’d probably arrive at the Arlington town house in about forty-five minutes.

A slow smile of unforgotten memories slid across her polished lips. In forty-five minutes, she’d see him again. Chad.

Four years. It felt like a lifetime since the last night she’d spent with him. They’d been together that entire evening, speaking in low, intimate tones, laughing softly, touching often, the way lovers do, even though they’d never crossed that invisible line.

It was perfect. Too perfect almost, Simone recalled; from the gourmet food and exquisite wine, the balmy spring air, perfect starlit sky and most of all, the way they connected that night. It was as if they could read each other’s thoughts, anticipate every need before a word was spoken. A kind of telepathy of the hearts.

She’d had “a thing” for Chad since her early days as a young intern at her stepfather’s law firm. Even then, Chad Rushmore exuded an aura of assurance and total male sensuality that could not be ignored. Combined with his brilliance, good looks and warm personality, Chad was a dream come true for many women.

But their relationship didn’t leap off the pages with the intensity of a romance novel. Rather, they began as friends, he being her support and confidant when she’d discovered the real identity of her mother and the circumstances of her birth. And their relationship remained that way until the eve of his departure that took him out of the States for four years.

The high-arching passion in which they’d found themselves that night stunned them both. Perhaps it was the wine, Simone often thought, the incredible atmosphere, conversation and the knowledge that the moment may never come again.

They’d just finished an incredible dinner in a swank eatery in fashionable Georgetown and were driving aimlessly around town, listening to WHUR. “I know a great place just outside of D.C.,” Chad had said in that rich baritone that caused shudders to run along her spine.

Simone turned to glance at him. He kept his eyes on the road. “Where?” she asked, almost too eager to prolong their time together, she realized.

“It’s called Harvest House…a small bed and breakfast.”

Her heart thumped, then settled into a more reasonable rhythm.

Chad turned to her, his dark eyes roamed over her face. “Only if you want to,” he said gently. “We can have separate rooms. Whatever. No pressure. No strings. I just want to spend some more time with you.”

She thought about it for a moment, contemplated the possibilities—and the consequences. “Sure. Why not?” she answered, simple and direct, the way she was about everything.

When they arrived, Simone was instantly captivated by the Old World charm of the rambling building, which looked to be a converted mansion snatched from the pages of a Civil War history book.

Chad held her hand and led her to the front desk.

“Do you have any rooms available?” he asked the desk clerk.

The middle-aged woman with slightly graying hair smiled brightly and opened an oversized, leather-bound register. “Name?”

“Rushmore, Chad. I…uh, don’t have a reservation,” he added.

The woman frowned for a moment, then her expression cleared like a cloud passing over the hillside. “Well, Mr. Rushmore, you’re in luck. My reserved clients aren’t due until the weekend. I have three rooms to choose from—one facing the garden, one along the side—but very private, and one on the ground floor, which gives you easy access to all of our amenities.”

“We’ll need two rooms.”

“One,” Simone piped in, and squeezed Chad’s hand.

He looked down into her eyes, saw her intentions reflected there. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly under his breath.

Simone nodded.

“One room, please,” he uttered, his voice low and personal, his gaze fixed on Simone’s face.

After checking in and exploring the accommodations, Simone and Chad took a tour of the grounds, then sat for a while in the cozy den, talking about his impending trip and looking into the flames that pulsed in the fireplace.

But the inevitable, the underlying reason for their being there arrived, no longer held back by time and circumstance. And almost as if by tacit agreement, they left the room with the fire and danced to one of their own making.

There was no hesitation, no fumbling moments of embarrassment. It was as if they, this time between them, had always been, only waiting for the perfect moment to expose itself.

Chad walked toward Simone as she stood framed in the moonlit window. Watching him come to her, she imagined him as the dark knight, the virile seducer. Her mouth curved into a smile of invitation.

His right hand, smooth for a man, reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek, cupping her chin, easing her face closer.

A warm breath was all that stood between them and their first kiss, as Simone raised her mouth to taste his. Sweet, shocking sensation rippled through her limbs, the energy, the heat of it pooling in her center. A lightness of being, that’s what she thought through the waves of euphoria.

Chad pressed the full length of his body against her. Every line, every curve, every dip was defined, one fitting within the other. She felt the distinctive pulse of his erection swell against her stomach. She wanted him lower, needed to feel him between the heat of her thighs. But she couldn’t rush this. Tonight was to be taken slow, savored and sipped like a fine wine.

So they toyed with each other, from tender nibbles on exposed necks, to long deep kisses lavished over yearning mouths, to hungry fingers seeking warm flesh. They taunted and played, laughed, sighed and groaned, danced against the moonlight, their beautiful naked bodies gleaming like polished wood sculpture in its glow.

When Chad cradled her body against him and gazed down into her eyes, Simone was certain, at that instant, he had more than entered her body, he’d penetrated her soul, the only thing separating them was the thin sheath of latex.

The exquisite shock of it set her entire being ablaze. She became sensation, gratefully submitting to the push and pull of him. But Chad wouldn’t give himself over that easily.

He slowed his dance inside her until he barely moved at all. The thrust was almost indiscernible, which made it all the more maddening. She felt her walls clamp around the length and breadth of him, demanding that he fill her, complete her, satisfy her.

In turn, she raised and lowered her hips in a slow, sensual spiral and reveled in her power when he groaned in sublime agony, trapped within the deep, wet hollow that made him shudder, advance and retreat, and urge in a hot whisper to give him more of the same.

But still Chad refused to succumb to the temptation that writhed beneath him. Her hot passion spurred him on. He wanted to hear her moans, her sighs, the sound of his name on her lips. And he made it happen over and over again as he dipped deep and long into the honey, then pulled away until only the tip touched her throbbing outer flesh.

Her body trembled, heated. Tighter she gripped her thighs around his waist to capture the pleasure that rose at a blinding speed within her.

“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go and come to me.” He cupped her breasts completely, capturing her peaked nipples between his fingers. And the heat began, starting at her toes, winding its way along the lines of her strong legs, settling for a moment in her hips, rising to the pit of her stomach, then returning to that hot, dark, damp place where she held him, exploding in a torrent of white light and pulsing, shuddering release.

Chad held her there, suspended, wouldn’t let her go, turned up the heat with a deeper thrust, pulled her closer, sealed their bodies, letting his empty completely into hers.

For several moments they lay there, locked together in the final throes of aftershock, the tiny tremors continuing, their breath pushed out in deep, hot riffs.

And they kissed, touched, slept, still connected.

The blare of a car horn jerked Simone out of her daydream. Blinking quickly and shaking her head to clear the vision, she eased across the intersection.

Her heart was racing and she could feel a distinct wetness between her legs.

Chad.

Sure, there’d been other men in the four years since that single night. Some momentarily took her mind away from him, but generally not for long.

Chad.

Tonight would be the first time she’d seen him since she watched him board the plane to Uganda. Four years. Things changed. People changed. Had he? Had they?

No strings, remember?

Chapter 3

Vaughn wearily changed out of her fitted navy blue suit and hung it among the rows of other tailored suits and dresses that filled her walk-in closet. She pulled in a long breath. Somehow, she’d have to ease into the next gear and raise her energy level if she expected to play hostess.

Her day at her congressional office had been grueling at best. The phone rang nonstop from seven-thirty that morning with calls from reporters, her constituents and colleagues, all wanting to know how she felt about the latest instance of police shootings—and most of all, her feelings about her stepdaughter Samantha’s caustic statements.

Her head throbbed as she padded barefoot to the bathroom and popped two extra-strength Tylenols without water.

She gazed intently at her reflection in the goldframed mirror. An attractive, deep brown face confronted her. She could see the fatigue in the subtle puffiness around her almond-shaped eyes and the tension that drew a deepening furrow between her tapered brows. Vaughn slowly turned away at the sound of the bedroom door opening, then closing.

A sudden, familiar warmth inched its way through her body and a smile eased across her full mouth.

She stepped out of the bathroom. The expectation and excitement she felt the first night she’d met Justin Montgomery still made her heart race six years later.

The instant he saw her, all the tension melted from his body and he remembered all over again why he’d married her. Vaughn was everything he’d wanted in a woman. She was intelligent, sensitive, determined, beautiful and the most incredible lover. Even in her forties, Vaughn Hamilton-Montgomery could give these young girls a run for their money.

“Hey, baby,” he crooned, quickly wishing that the rest of the night would be theirs and not shared with the arrivals of their daughters and Chad. But that was selfish. Unfortunately, when it came to Vaughn, that was the way he felt.

Vaughn crossed the carpeted floor and became enveloped in Justin’s strong embrace. Instinctively, his long fingers gently kneaded the taut muscles of her back, then her neck.

Languidly, she lifted her chin, her rich mouth eagerly awaiting to be baptized by his.

The kiss was slow and sweet, the tenderness born from years of knowing each other flowed through them.

Marriage was bliss, Vaughn thought, feeling her body warm to a sizzle, and she wouldn’t change a thing—except the loss of their baby. For that she would always blame herself—her drive and her ambition—the catalysts for her marriage. She’d known how much Justin wanted a child between them, and she’d deprived him as surely as if she’d told him no. And now it was too late, she was sure. They’d made love without protection for all the years of their marriage—and nothing.

She held him tighter, lingered over the kiss a bit longer. Every day, for the rest of their life together, she would make it up to him. That was a promise she had no intention of breaking.

Justin, with a groan deep in his throat, reluctantly moved away. He gazed down into her eyes.

“You look tired, babe.” He brushed her shoulder-length hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Rough day, huh?”

Vaughn released a heavy sigh. “That’s putting it mildly. It was totally draining.” She took a seat at her dressing table, crossed her ankles and swiveled the chair to face Justin. “There’s going to be trouble, Justin.”

He slowly nodded and lowered his muscular frame onto the edge of the bed. “I know. And it looks as if our daughters are going to be right in the front of the line.”

Vaughn pressed her lips together. “You know they’re both right. Things have gotten totally out of control. Not just here, but across the country.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered. “It’s terrifying, especially for black males.”

“Believe me, I agree one hundred percent. But I guess I’m just like every other parent—why my children?” He chuckled derisively.

“I know. But I’m proud of both of them. They have the kind of values and vision that’s been lost these past generations. After the sixties, we became complacent, Justin, simply because we could drink at water fountains, sit where we wanted on a bus or in a diner, and move into neighborhoods we’d been banned from.”

“Legally mandated integration was just a Band-Aid for what really ails this country. Racism,” Justin added. “The Band-Aid covered the sore for a while, but now the decay is oozing out of the sides. The hate is still festering underneath.”

“I’m willing to do whatever is needed to support them on the congressional floor, or in the street,” Vaughn said, the fire underscoring her words.

“And so am I.”

They held each other with just a look, their commitment to themselves and their children needing no more words.

Justin pushed out a breath, and slapped his palms on his thighs. “So—what time is this shindig?”

“Nine.”

Justin checked his watch. “I promised Chad I’d pick him up at the airport. His plane lands at seven.”

Vaughn rose and gently kissed his lips. “Go take a quick shower and change. You don’t want to rush.”

Justin grinned. “Yes, dear.”

She playfully swatted his arm. “I’ll go see what Dottie planned for dinner, while you’re in the bath.”

Dorothy Beamer had been hired during Vaughn’s abbreviated pregnancy to help around the house and look after Vaughn. Dottie was more than just hired help, she was her friend. When Vaughn lost the baby, Dottie insisted on staying, and on nights like this one, Vaughn was glad for Dottie’s comforting presence.

Moments later she heard the rush of the shower as she made her way downstairs. She had a good life, she mused upon entering the high-tech kitchen. She had a great career, a fabulous husband, wonderful children and enduring friendships. Yet she couldn’t help but feel that the foundation of it all was shifting somehow, about to change. Possibly forever.

Chapter 4

Samantha pulled her candy-apple red Mustang convertible behind her sister’s Mazda just as Simone was cutting her engine. She picked up her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat and slid out of the car in concert with Simone.

The locks on both vehicles beeped simultaneously, sounding in an uncanny harmony, and the two strikinglooking young women laughed in unison.

“Hey, sis,” Samantha greeted, her wide mouth blooming into a smile. She strutted toward her sister, her sneakered feet moving soundlessly across the pavement.

Simone took in her stepsister’s carefree attire and casual attitude, both more than adequately camouflaging the keen mind and dancer’s body. Samantha Montgomery was probably one of the most powerful women in the post–civil rights movement era. At first glance, the unknowing would mistake her ingenue appearance for the actions and mannerisms of a young college coed. That was the first mistake, to underestimate her, to misjudge her by her looks. Simone always believed that her cunning sister should have gone into politics herself—made a run for public office. But Samantha insisted she’d rather fight in the trenches than from the air where you couldn’t make out your target.

“Hey, girl,” Simone greeted in return, planting a kiss on Samantha’s cheek.

“I thought I’d see your name smeared all over the papers today along with mine,” Samantha teased, slipping her arm around Simone’s slender waist as they walked toward the house. Samantha truly admired her sister and her ability to contend with all the bureaucratic bullshit and still get the job done despite the odds against her. She definitely had her mother’s warrior spirit, Samantha mused. When it came to dealing the political deck of cards, Vaughn and Simone were at the top of their game.

“I got honorable mention,” Simone joked. “I’m sure they’ll get to me before the week is over.”

Samantha tipped her head toward her sister. “Not to change the subject, but isn’t that Dad’s car?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he must have already picked Chad up from the airport. Wasn’t his flight due in at seven?”

Simone’s pulse began to throb at her temple. Her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed. “Yeah, I think so,” she finally uttered, trying to stay calm.

Samantha beamed. “I can’t wait to see him.” She walked faster toward the front door, nearly dragging Simone in the process.

Suddenly, what Simone really wanted to do was run back to her car, turn on the engine and speed away. For weeks, right up until a few minutes ago, she’d been living for this moment, acting it out in her head, rehearsing what she would say, how she would smile and respond when he kissed her cheek.

Samantha stuck her spare key in the door and turned the knob. Simone froze. Samantha turned her head toward her and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Simone blinked. Her smile flickered like a fading light bulb around the edges of her mouth. She shook her head briskly, the sleek, blunt-cut hairstyle rippling past her cheeks. “Thought I forgot something,” she lied smoothly and wished she hadn’t. Instead, she wished she could tell Sam about the butterflies that were rampaging around in her stomach, or the hot and cold flashes that had taken over her body. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. In all this time, she’d never said a word to anyone about that night. Not a word. It was all she had left of him after his plane soared away—her dream and her fantasy—and she hadn’t wanted to share it with anyone, not even with her sister.

So, here she was, locked in place in front of her parents’ house, her heart racing, her palms sweating, and the best explanation she could come up with was she thought she forgot something.

Simone put on her best smile, slipped her arm through her sister’s and crossed the threshold. Hey, this was the millennium. No promises. No strings.

Justin rose from his relaxed position on the couch when Simone and Samantha entered the living room.

“There you two are.”

Simone’s eyes quickly took in the very classy decor of her parents’ home, with its gleaming hardwood floors, stylish high-arching ceilings, working fireplace and perfect combination of carefully selected antique furniture. Chad was nowhere among the splendor.

“Hi, Dad.” Samantha kissed his cheek and went straight to the bar, mixed herself a short screwdriver and took a quick sip before Simone left Justin’s embrace.

“Where is our guest of honor?” Simone dared ask.

“In the spare room, changing. He should be out in a minute.”

Samantha sauntered over with her drink and took a seat on the paisley-patterned chaise lounge. “Ahhh, that feels good,” she sighed, stretching out her long legs. She shut her eyes. “Any more heat from the other night, Dad?” she asked, referring to possible fallout from the protest.

“You need to talk to your mother about that. Her office was bombarded with calls all day.”

Simone and Samantha groaned in harmony. Hearing their father blast them out was one thing, but their mother was a different story. She was merciless. When angry, she was not one to pull her punches.

“You two should groan,” Vaughn said, whisking into the room with the same vitality that captivated her constituents. Gone was the woman who was bone-tired and deeply worried about her daughters. In her place was a charming, charismatic hostess who looked poised, relaxed and revived, as if she’d just gotten up from a nap.

Vaughn crossed the room, greeting each daughter with a warm kiss and a hug. “But we’ll put all of that aside for the time being and just enjoy the evening. Dottie fixed a great meal and my goal tonight is to relax with my family.”

“Sounds good to me,” Samantha said with relief.

“I’m going to see if Dottie wants me to bring anything out,” Simone offered, pushing herself up from the couch.

Justin turned on the stereo and the sweet serenade of Sarah Vaughan singing “My Man” followed her down the foyer to the kitchen.

When she entered, everything seemed to stand still. He had his back turned to her, unaware of her presence as he was wrapped in animated conversation with Dottie.

“You sure ’ave been missed,” Dottie was saying in her lilting Jamaican accent.

Chad laughed lightly. “It feels good to be back, Dottie, it really does,” he uttered in earnest. He clapped his palms on the countertop and pushed up from the stool. “I guess I’d better join my welcome-home party.”

“Good to see ya, dahlin’,” she said, patting his cheek in her customary motherly fashion. “Ahhh, Simone, come take this tray to the folks,” she said, noticing her standing in the archway.

Chad slowly turned toward her and his easy, inviting smile spread across his full mouth—one that Simone would never forget. His lids, fanned by curling lashes, rose, revealing the stomach-tumbling sparkle in his eyes.

Simone’s breath rushed from her lungs, then caught and held in her throat before releasing in a nervous giggle.

Chad walked toward her, arms outstretched as he gathered her close to his body in a tight, welcoming embrace.

For an instant, Simone pressed her head against his chest, shut her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She could have stood there forever, inhaling the scent of him, comforted by the strength of him, but of course that was a silly daydream of a one-time fantasy.

Simone stepped back, praying that her smile wasn’t as shaky as she felt. She blew out a breath. “Well, look at you. Traveling suits you.”

He bowed modestly. “Thank you, ma’am. You look great yourself.”

An awkward moment of silence floated between them as they each took an instant to revisit the past. They stood there stiffly, quietly trying to force down the uneasy surge of memories.

“I, uh, guess we can catch up later. I’d better get this food out there to the starving masses,” Simone quipped, needing something to fill the blank space between them.

Chad nodded and stepped aside. “We definitely will,” he said quietly as he watched her take the tray from Dottie and hurry back out front.

She looked good, Chad thought as he took his time entering the front room. He wondered how often, if ever, she thought about that night between them. He did. Often. It was one thing that kept him grounded as he traveled from one country to the next, sleeping in countless hotels and hamlets he’d sooner forget.

Why hadn’t they stayed in touch during the past four years? he wondered. Many times he’d considered writing to her, just to let her know she was in his thoughts. But he hadn’t and neither had she. And as the days turned to months and then years, the reasons for doing so grew dim. After all, he reasoned over and over again, they’d made no promises, had no commitments to each other. And from her reaction at seeing him again, perhaps it was just as well.

He put on his game face and joined the party.

Chapter 5

Dinner was a robust affair with flowing conversation, laughter and numerous trips down memory lane, and enough food to feed an army. Stuffed with good will and a solid meal, they collapsed into respective spots of comfort in the living room. Soft music flowed from the high-tech stereo system, adding another layer of relaxation onto the group.

Vaughn half sat, half reclined in Justin’s arms, her lids growing heavy with each passing moment, even as Justin and Chad carried on an invigorating conversation about new evidence that could totally exonerate the defamed O. J. Simpson.

“From what I’ve heard, there was suppressed evidence of a phone conversation between Nicole and her mother after the time she was supposed to be dead,” Justin stated.

“You know as well as I do that they’ll never let that brother rest in peace,” Chad responded. “It’s bad enough that they couldn’t convict him of murder. Folks are still ticked off about that.”

“You’re right about that,” Samantha chimed in. “But imagine if it could be proved he was on a plane to Chicago and she was still alive chatting with her mother? The fallout from that would be worth the price of admission and then some.”

Everyone nodded and mumbled in agreement.

“Believe me, if there really was evidence to clear him, they’d bury it until the man was six feet under.”

“The restitution, not to mention the total loss of political credibility, isn’t something they’d risk.”

“But how often have we seen this happen?” Samantha asked, her dark eyes polling the occupants of the room. “It’s going on right now, even as we speak. The black man is always assumed guilty until proven innocent. If they’re not killed first.”

Chad edged forward on the couch and clasped his hands in front of him. He looked pointedly from one to the other, making sure he had their attention. “There were several reasons why I decided to come back when I did,” he began in deep, measured tones. “One, of course, is that I missed everything and everyone.” For a breath of an instant, his gaze focused on Simone’s face, then moved away. “The other, and even more important, is that I think it’s time—past time—that we took measures into our own hands.”

Justin stiffened and Vaughn quickly put a halting hand on his arm.

“What are you saying, Chad?” Samantha asked. “We turn the clock back to the sixties and get out in the street—in force? Because if it is, I’m with you one hundred percent.” She made sure not to catch her father’s eyes, but she knew he was glaring at her.

“I was thinking about something that will provoke national attention, with no physical risk to anyone,” Chad offered.

The room fell silent, quiet enough to hear each chord of the keyboard played by Herbie Hancock on a track from his latest CD. He almost sounded like the Herbie of old, the young wizard on the ivories with Miles, stretching an old standard to its creative limits.

It was Chad who broke the spell of the music as he spoke solemnly to the others. “I want to launch a class action suit against the D.C. police department on behalf of all victims and families of victims who have been killed, beaten and unjustly jailed by police. I want it to set a precedent so that the same lawsuit can be brought in every state across the country. I want to bring all of those families together in one massive action against the Justice Department of the United States. It may not be possible to get everyone on board, but it’s worth a try.”

The silence deepened as the mammoth ramifications of Chad’s daring proposal took root. Carefully, he gauged one expression after the other, measuring their reaction. Justin looked stern and contemplative, Vaughn awed. He could see the wheels spinning in the eyes of Samantha and an awakening in the face of Simone.

“It can be done,” he added. “People engage in class action suits all the time for poor or dangerous products, illness resulting from improper medication. You name it. But no one has yet to take on the entire law enforcement apparatus, the vicious national policy of police brutality as a whole, the entire machine and mentality that oils them—the Justice Department.”

“It would be unprecedented,” Samantha finally said, fully grasping the enormity of it.

“But a massive undertaking,” Simone added, also thinking of the legal and political maneuvering involved.

“That’s why I need your help.” He looked with a plea in his eyes from Simone to Samantha. “Simone, you have a strong foothold in the community. You’re gaining a political edge and it would give your platform for the Assembly seat that much more bite and focus.”

Simone thought about it and knew it was true. This could very well be the key to seal her election run—or destroy it. Any action taken on a federal level was always risky.

“And Sam, you’re the fire. You’re out there every day, in the trenches. The press knows you, the people know you. And not just here in D.C. Your name gets noticed in the media across the country. You could easily represent the national voice of the people.”

Simone glanced briefly at her sister, who looked mesmerized by the possibility, seduced by the beam of notoriety. And in that instant, a twinge of something unnamed lurked and found a dark refuge in the corner of her mind. Her gaze trailed to Chad and the same determined look as Samantha’s lit his face. That thing burrowed a bit deeper.

“Are you really prepared—legally—to pursue something like this?” Justin cut in, breaking the trance, scattering the thing deeper into hiding.

“Yes, I am,” Chad stated emphatically. “I’ve been preparing for months. And I’d like you to work with me on the legal end.”

Justin looked at his wife.

“You realize that once this process begins and the wheels are in motion, the momentum will be too powerful to stop,” Vaughn said, imagining the ripple effect on the Hill, the sides that would be taken on both sides of the aisle—and most of all the toll it would take on her family. She studied the eager and determined expressions of her children, of Chad, who was like a son, and looked across at her husband, whom she trusted beyond measure. She spoke only to him. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m behind you.”

Justin squeezed her hand and nodded, both of them knowing his decision.

Chad sighed audibly, then slowly smiled. “We can do this,” he said in an almost hushed reverence. “And when we do—everything will change.”

Simone helped Vaughn gather up the dishes and load the dishwasher while surreptitiously stealing glances at Samantha and Chad, who were locked in animated conversation, peppered with musical notes of laughter and light touches on a hand or arm.

Her stomach bobbed up and down like a buoy on rough seas, and the tightness in her throat was the only thing that kept her from screaming.

But at what? she wondered, frowning as she turned the dials and the machine churned to life. She had no hold on Chad, no claim on his heart. He was a free man. Free to do as he chose, as was she. So was Samantha. All unclaimed. Then why did it feel as if that weren’t true?

Chad was spending his first night in Justin and Vaughn’s guest room, both of them adamantly refusing to let him spend the night in a hotel.

Samantha and Simone said their good-byes, giving their parents the ritualistic kiss, hug and promise to call.

Simone stood aside as Chad embraced Samantha, lightly kissing her cheek and conveying something she could not hear. She glanced away.

“We’ll talk,” Simone suddenly heard close to her ear as her sister sped away. She turned and Chad was at her side, gazing at her in that familiar way of his.

Simone looked up. “Sure.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. His lips stayed pressed against her flesh for a moment too long and the old sensations roared to the surface. Did he feel it, too? Her heart pumped faster. “It was good seeing you again, Simone,” his voice caressed. “You’re more beautiful than I remember.” His finger stroked her cheek and it took all her will power not to tremble.

“Maybe we could get together—for lunch or dinner.”

“I’m really busy, Chad…”

He held up his hand. “Hey, no explanations needed. I understand. Maybe some other time.” He opened the car door and held it until Simone was behind the wheel.

She stuck her key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. She pressed a button and the window lowered halfway.

Chad leaned down. “Get home safely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled and backed out of the driveway.

Chad watched the car until it turned out of the drive and tore off down the smooth, black-tarred road.

Slowly, he turned back toward the house and quietly shut the door behind him.

That night, lying in bed, Chad stared through the sheer curtains that billowed with the light spring breeze and out onto the seamless blue blanket, sprinkled with star dust. He was home, among those who loved him, and it felt good. Very good.

It all seemed so quiet, so perfect, as if all was right with the world. How deceptive a quiet night could be. Behind closed doors, strategies were devised, lies constructed, papers read, televisions watched and lovers loved. He and Simone were perfect examples of a quiet night, both projecting a picture of cool control, an emotional distance, while still maintaining a tangible warmth. He turned on his side, his thoughts still turbulent.

She’d changed. That was obvious. There was a toughening of her edges, a new aloofness that he didn’t remember being a part of who she was. Perhaps it was the work, the things she’d seen and had to find a way to deal with. There was no way she could successfully coexist in the world of politics without developing a tough exterior. A shell to ward off the blindside attacks and sudden assaults of the opposition. Beltway politics at its meanest.

Had Simone become hardened inside as well? She wasn’t the woman he’d left four years ago. But neither was he the same man. His journey into the abject misery of the Third World, with its many plagues of hunger, disease and war, had awakened something deep inside him. He saw everything around him now with new eyes, saw beyond the obvious to the essentials of things. Yes,Simone had changed. And it was apparent from her response to him that she’d moved on and had no intention of revisiting the past. How did he feel about that?

Truthfully, it was a mixture of regret and relief. Regret that there wasn’t a special someone waiting for him, that she was not what he’d imagined during his time away, and relief that he wouldn’t be called upon to live up to or recreate what had once been. The memory was always more perfect than the reality. The mind always played tricks with time and emotion.

Maybe it was just as well. He came back for one major reason—to make a difference. That was what he would concentrate on.

Samantha stepped out of the shower and walked nude to her bedroom. She’d completed a full hour of aerobics, light weights and stretches upon returning from her parents’ home.

Her smooth, brown, heavenly sculpted body glided by the full-length mirror. The long, sinewy legs, tight thighs—and just the right amount of curve and lift to her behind to make a man holler—moved in perfect motion about the room. She hadn’t reached a point yet where gravity had gotten a lock on her, dragging everything toward the ground. Her 36B breasts were still high and firm and she worked hard at keeping them that way for as long as possible.

Samantha sat on the side of the bed, took a cloth band from the night table, grabbed a handful of her locks and fastened a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She checked her bedside clock and disconnected the alarm. Tomorrow she planned to sleep late—at least until eight and not her usual six.

She switched off her bedside light and slid beneath the cool, mint green sheets that matched perfectly with the patterned borders of her off-white walls. Even in the brutal heat of the D.C. summers, stepping into her room always reminded her of an oasis.

Samantha took in a long breath and slowly pushed it out. This had been an incredibly hard week, and the worst was yet to come. Of that much she was certain. But at least she knew she had her family’s support. And now that Chad was home—

The sudden rush of adrenaline caused her heart to beat faster and her skin to warm. The notion of what he wanted to undertake had no precedence, at least not on a national level. To be a part of it—to possibly add a page to history, change lives and laws, was a Herculean feat that left her in awe.

She shut her eyes and the image of Chad’s face bloomed behind her lids. Her eyes flew open and her entire body tingled.

Chad?

Samantha laughed quietly to herself. Who was she kidding? Chad was the one who gave her that hot flush, that extra beat of her heart. He’d been able to evoke that kind of response from her since she first met him six years earlier. But then, Chad Rushmore seemed so sophisticated and worldly—out of her reach—compared to the sheltered life she’d lived with her mother in Atlanta. She never felt he’d be interested in the woman she was becoming. Strong, driven and politically committed. All still in the bud. So she hid her feelings from him, from the world, hiding behind her books, her studies, her causes, her family.

But now—now she was in full bloom. She knew who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. She had convictions, values and supporters. People recognized her on the street and sought her guidance and assistance any day of any week.

She was his equal now and felt confident in that role, and if the possibility of a relationship existed, now she would have something to bring to it. Her own strengths.

She always swore that all she wanted in a relationship was a man like her father, Justin, and Chad Rushmore was as close as it comes. Seeing him again, being in his presence, confirmed what she’d only imagined.

Chapter 6

Samantha arrived early at her local offices in Georgetown. On a clear day she could glimpse the imposing structure of the Washington Monument, and the outline of the Capitol building. It all looked so pure and powerful, strong and white, symbolic of the freedoms for which men and women fought and sacrificed their lives.

She turned away from the farce that darkened her window and crossed the tiny office space to her cluttered desk, stacked with files, forms, and to-do correspondence. Her assistant and dear friend Mia left her a list of calls to be returned and invoices to be signed. Although it was Saturday, this was the day she accomplished the most. When the phones weren’t ringing off the hook, clients weren’t running in and out, and her small but efficient staff wasn’t pulling her in every direction at once.

This was her time, her quiet time for reflection and reorganization.

Although she’d made a silent vow the night before to sleep later, as usual she was up before the sun, and she had completed her ritual two-mile jog by six.

Energized, showered and her mind crystal clear, she’d wound up at her office before eight.

Moving to the make-believe kitchen—which was no more than a microwave and a miniature refrigerator—tucked in the back of the three-room office, Samantha ran some water in a mug and popped it into the microwave. A cup of herbal tea was just the thing she needed.

With tea in hand, she methodically went through the pile of messages, discarded calls she would not make, and then sorted by order of importance the ones to be made that morning and those that could wait until Monday.

Completing her calls to two reporters, one to her GYN doctor to reschedule her missed appointment and the other to a man who wanted her help in a housing discrimination suit, Samantha then went through the bills.

Although many compared her to the young and fiery Angela Davis, and the now in-your-face Reverend Al, Samantha Montgomery prided herself on several things which gave her an edge over both. One, she began her illustrious career working within the system, not against it. Two, she possessed parents in respected, powerful positions. And three, she had her degree in law, a fact very few people knew—but it served her well.

Her father’s dream was for her to one day partner with Chad and run the firm. Especially now that Khendra and Sean had relocated to New York to open their own offices. But that was his dream. At least the part about running the firm. She had no inclination to become trapped behind the bars—no pun intended—of political etiquette and intrigue. Pairing up with Chad, however, was an entirely different story.

Samantha smiled as she signed her name with a flourish on the last invoice in the pile and filled out the accompanying check for payment.

Chad. She glanced at the phone and then at the clock. It was almost ten. She barely hesitated as she pulled the phone toward her and dialed her parents’ home.

Simone took the blue plastic basket of laundry and sorted through the clothes as she made the appropriate choices and dropped them into the machine. Adding detergent and fabric softener—because she was never on time with the softener—she switched the dial to Hot and Start.

The sound of the rushing water and the low hum of the washer was comforting in a way as she moved through her two-bedroom apartment, dusting, mopping, discarding, and changing sheets and towels. It was nearly eleven, and the pangs of hunger threatened to overshadow her zest for domesticity. She recalled Chad’s invitation of the previous night. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer of lunch—or dinner.

She pressed her lips together, debating whether to call him or not. After all, she didn’t want him to think she was too eager, or worse—desperate.

She weighed her options. The worst that could happen was that he would tell her he was busy. The best, that he wasn’t and would love to see her.

The phone seemed to beckon her from its perch of honor on the kitchen wall. Twisting her mouth in the final stages of contemplation, she snatched the phone from the cradle and punched in her parents’ phone number.

Dottie answered on the second ring.

“Montgomery residence.”

“Mornin’, Dottie. It’s me, Simone.”

“Hi, dahlin’. What can I do for you? Your mom and pop are still asleep—or at least they haven’t been seen today.” She chuckled merrily. “You’d think those two were teenagers.” She laughed again and Simone smiled, hoping that one day she’d find not just the lust but the love her parents had.

“No, I wasn’t calling for them.” She cleared her throat. “Actually, I was, uh, wondering if Chad was around. But—don’t trouble yourself,” she began to ramble. “If he’s still asleep, I can call later or tomorrow. Really, don’t bother—”

“Whoa, hold your horses. Chad is out back, been up for hours. As a matter of fact, he just this minute finished a call with Sam. Hold the line while I get him.”

Before Simone could register her protest, Dottie had laid the phone down and was gone in search of Chad.

Now she felt like a bumbling idiot. What would she say? Why was she even calling? This was so infantile. She should just—

“Hello?”

“Hi…it’s…Simone.”

“Hey, Simone.”

He sounded happy to hear from her, she thought. “Busy?”

“Not at the moment. But I will be soon. What’s up?”

“I was getting hungry and I was wondering if…you still wanted to…go to lunch.”

“Uh, you’re about five minutes late. Sam just called and asked me to meet her at Cisco’s.”

There was an uneasy moment of silence.

Sam? “Oh, hey, no problem. Have fun. Okay?”

“Sure. Maybe another time. We’ll have to get together at some point and talk about launching this case. Hopefully, one day this week.”

“Yeah…the case.” Her head was spinning and she had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Anyway, let me run. I’ll talk to you.”

“Take care, Simone. I’ll call you.”

She hung up without saying anything further and possibly making a bigger fool of herself.

Heavily, she sat down in the chair. Maybe it was nothing, she concluded—Sam and Chad. Just a friendly lunch for old time’s sake. What else could it be?

Samantha arrived at Cisco’s at exactly noon. Chad was sitting at the bar of the upscale restaurant with his back to her. She pulled in a breath and walked forward.

“Hi, waiting long?” she asked, placing her hand on his back.

Chad turned his head and smiled up at her. “Not at all. Just got here myself. You want to sit at the bar or get a table?”

She gazed quickly around at the sprinkling of people in the trendy bistro. “Table sounds good to me.”

He rose from the bar stool and brushed innocently against her in the process. Samantha drew in a quick breath, slightly unnerved by his touch, and smiled tightly.

Casually, Chad put his arm around her waist and led her to the hostess who sat them.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked, scanning the menu.

“The house salad is excellent. And I love the Tahini dressing they use.”

“I’m still growing.” He chuckled. “I think I’ll go with the burger and some fries.”

The waitress arrived shortly and took their orders.

Samantha folded her hands in her lap. “So, how does it feel being back home?”

His brows rose, then lowered. “Good but strange. Everything seems the same but different. I’ve been so accustomed to odd languages, customs and time frames—it takes some getting used to.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I know you must have learned a lot.”

He nodded. “That I did. I mean, I went abroad with the intention of seeing how unfair the laws are outside of the U.S., only to discover that the real problems are right here at home—disguised as democracy.”

Samantha rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “How do you plan to go about the class action suit?” Her eyes studied him intently.

“I want to begin with securing a list, from you actually, of all the cases that have come through your office and begin contacting the families. Then I want to work with Justin to review case files and arrest records as well as hospital records.”

“Wow. That’s quite a load.”

“It can be done.”

“I’ll do anything I can to help. You know that.”

He reached across the table and covered her hands with his. “I’m counting on you.”

Their food arrived and they ate for a few moments in silence. Samantha was the first one to break it.

“So…besides hunting down the bad guys, what do you do these days for entertainment?”

He chuckled. “That’s a good question. I haven’t been out socially in nearly four years.” Images of his last night with Simone suddenly danced beneath his conscience.

“Maybe we can change that,” she said with a bold smile.

Chad cocked his head to the side, a playful glint coming into his eyes. “Are you propositioning me, Ms. Montgomery?”

“Absolutely. All work and no play…you know the rest.”

“I think I’d like that.”

The warm glow in her heart set her face aglow. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She almost giggled.

“What did you have in mind?”

“If I remember correctly, you love jazz. Hopefully, that hasn’t changed.”

“No way. It was one of the main things I longed for while I was away.”

“Great. There’s a fabulous local band, Magique, that’s playing on Wednesday nights. My treat.”

“Well, well, a woman for the millennium,” he chuckled. “Sounds great.”

“What if I pick you up about eight. That will give me enough time to finish up at the office and go home and change.”

“You don’t have to pick me up. I can meet you.”

“My treat, remember? That means transportation is included.”

“I was never one to turn down a good deal.”

Samantha looked at him from beneath her lashes, stuck the fork in her salad and slowly slipped a mouthful between her lips.

“You’ve changed, Samantha,” he said as if seeing her for the first time.

“I know,” she said softly.

Simone stared at the typed words in the book she was reading. All the lines seemed to merge together, not making any sense. Gibberish. She tossed it aside and gazed up at the bedroom ceiling. Her house was spotless. Her laundry was finished. She didn’t have to return to work until Monday and she didn’t have a damned thing to do in the meantime.

She crossed her legs at the ankle, then folded her hands across her stomach. She was edgy, too full of energy. Her mind was racing. Driving usually helped when she felt this way. The concentration it took to maneuver the roads, the relaxation that came from seeing the landscape spread out in front of her worked to knock the kinks out.

She popped up from the bed, put on her sneakers, grabbed her car keys and headed out.

After driving for a good hour, she took stock of her surroundings and was surprised to find herself on the road to the bed and breakfast that she’d shared with Chad. She kept going. That was then. This is now. A memory. A good time. That’s all it was. So why couldn’t she just file it away and forget it?

If only it was that easy.

Taking the next exit, she headed back. She needed to talk, get her feelings out, the ones she’d tried to pretend didn’t exist for the past four years. And the one person who understood her feelings, her fears and struggles was her sister, Samantha. Her eyes momentarily filled. She’d been so determined not to get caught up in that love trap thing that she’d probably ruined whatever chance there might have been. It had been a matter of priorities. Her career had been more important. She’d been a modern woman of the nineties. No strings. No commitments. So she’d never admitted to anyone, not even herself, how much that one night had meant to her.

And now, she’d gotten what she wished for—a relationship free of commitments and strings. And he was free as well. Free to be with her sister.

“Thanks for hanging with me this afternoon. It was great,” Samantha said as they stood together outside of Cisco’s. Her voice dropped a note. “I’m looking forward to Wednesday.”

“So am I.”

Samantha pulled in a breath. “Well, I guess I’ll see you.”

“Absolutely.”

“How long are you going to be staying at Mom and Dad’s?”

“I have to start apartment hunting as soon as possible. They keep insisting that I can stay as long as I want, but I can’t do that. I need to have my own space. Where I can work and think.”

“I know what you mean. As much as I love them, I love being on my own.”

Chad slid his hands into his pockets. “Are you really on your own?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you seeing anyone, living with someone, planning to?”

She smiled nervously. “No to all of the above.”

“By choice or circumstance?”

“A combination of both. I haven’t come across anyone that I want to be with—like that.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you? Is there a lady in waiting?”

“Not that I know of.”

Silence momentarily hung between them like a sheer veil until Chad brushed it aside. “Maybe if you have some time you can help me apartment hunt.”

Her heart raced. “Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’ll do that.” Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, not a big-brother kiss, but a man kissing a woman kind of kiss. A kiss promising intimacy to come. A kiss which set her entire body to tingling. He eased back. “Good seeing you, Sam. Get home safely.” He turned and headed for his rented car.

For several moments, Samantha stood there as if she’d been glued to the concrete, watching him move languidly down the street.

“It was good seeing you, too,” she whispered and opened the door to her car. She couldn’t wait to get home and call Simone.

Chapter 7

Simone tossed her keys and purse on the hall table and aimlessly headed for the kitchen. The drive had done little to unfurl the tight coils of her tense insides. Rather, it aggravated her condition.

She opened the fridge, searched through its contents and took out a glass bottle of fruit juice. What she really wanted was a cigarette. A quick, relaxing smoke. But she’d given them up about a year earlier after a severe bout of bronchitis.

Sitting at the kitchen table, she twisted the smooth glass bottle around in her hands, staring blankly into space, and finally her gaze landed on the flashing red light of her answering machine. Slowly, she got up and pressed Play.

“Hi, sis, it’s me. I have so much to tell you. Call me when you get in,” she said, and Simone could hear the high pitch of excitement in her sister’s voice.

Simone pressed Erase. She stared at the phone, debating. A part of her wanted to hear the details and share her sister’s excitement. Another part of her dreaded what Samantha might say. Did he kiss her, touch her in that gentle way of his? Did he laugh at her corny jokes and did his eyes crinkle at the edges when he did?

She tugged in a breath. The truth was, she didn’t want to know, but she had to.

Simone defiantly snatched up the phone and dialed Samantha’s number.

“Hello…”

The voice sounded breathless. Simone flinched. Was Chad there? Were they…?

“Hey, sis, sounds like you were running.”

“Whew, sorry about that. I was outside when I heard the phone. I was hoping it was you.”

“This is your lucky day.”

Samantha chuckled, missing the sarcasm. She pranced into the kitchen and skulked around in the fridge for her container of vanilla soy milk. “Guess what?” she asked, following a long swallow of the creamy liquid.

Simone briefly shut her eyes. “What?”

“I had lunch with Chad today—at Cisco’s.”

“Really.” A tense bubble of laughter burst and dribbled over her lips. It was apparent that Chad hadn’t mentioned their brief conversation, so neither would she. “You make it sound like more than business.”

“Well…” She let the word stretch to four syllables.

Simone gripped the phone a bit tighter. “What does that mean?”

Samantha went on to explain about their upcoming “date” to the jazz club and Chad’s subsequent request for her to help him find an apartment.

“Sounds like you two are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Samantha sighed. “I hope so, Monie,” she said, using her pet name for her sister. “I like him and I think we could have something.”

“You figured that all out after one lunch?”

Samantha frowned, startled by Simone’s sharp tone. “What’s bugging you?”

Simone caught herself. “Hey, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired and I have a headache brewing. A bit on edge.” At least that part was true.

“Did you take anything?”

“No, not yet. But I will.” Simone’s tight expression softened. Although they were only separated by one year, with Sam being the younger, early on Samantha had taken the opposite role as big sister and nurturer. Samantha was the type of person who couldn’t stand to see anyone suffering or in pain. She somehow believed it her duty and obligation to take on the weight of everyone’s ills and find a way to make them better. You had to love her.

“You go and rest. If it gets worse and you need me, just call. Okay?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I think I will lie down for a while.”

“Good. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Later.”

“Hey, uh, when are you guys going to the club?”

“Wednesday. Why don’t you bring Chris and come along?”

“Chris Walker has risen to the top of my not-to-do list at the moment.” She’d been dating Chris for about three months, and although he was smart enough to have “Doctor” in front of his name, it had become abundantly clear, at least to her, that his intelligence was trapped between his legs. Whenever they were together all he ever wanted to do with any enthusiasm was to have sex. Any other activity he was always “too tired” to participate. That wore thin pretty quickly. Their relationship was going nowhere fast.

Samantha chuckled. “Girl, you and men. You shed them faster than I can keep up with. One of these days you’re going to have to figure out what you want and stick with it.”

“Sam, you don’t know the half of it. But that’s another story for another day. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Simone absently hung up the hone. Humph. Figure out what I want and stick with it. I thought I had, once upon a time. Guess I was wrong.

“How’s it feel to be back in your own office?” Justin asked, leaning against the frame of the door.

Chad looked up from sorting the files on his desk, happy to see his mentor. He leaned back in his chocolate-brown leather chair and expansively linked his fingers behind his head. “Man, I am home,” he stated, enunciating every word.

Justin chuckled and stepped inside. Casually, he gazed around, intermittently picking up and putting down objets d’art that Chad brought back with him from his travels. Statues from Ghana, talismans from Uganda, native cloths from Liberia and fetishes from the Sudan, among others.

Chad monitored Justin’s apparent ease and lack of agenda, and knew from years of working with him that he had something on his mind. It was a tactic that worked like a charm with juries, and Chad, too, had mastered the technique—biding his time before making his move. The only unknown factor was when Justin would strike. Chad didn’t have to wait long.

Justin crossed his arms and pursed his lips as though preparing for his closing argument.

“I have a few concerns I want to discuss with you.”

“I figured as much.”

The two men looked at each other with quiet amusement.

“You know I think of you as a son, Rush,” Justin began, using the name he’d tagged him with since Chad’s early days at the firm. “You’re one of the sharpest attorneys I’ve come across in years. I can easily see you winding up in a political office, maybe in the House or on the federal bench.”

“Thank you, Justin. You know your opinion means a great deal to me.”

“However…”

“I knew there was a ‘however’ in there somewhere.”

Justin took a seat opposite Chad, crossed his right ankle over his left knee and eased back. “And I’m sure you know that even though I will support you in this endeavor, I have some serious concerns on how this will impact on my family. Simone has always been the more levelheaded, thoughtful one of my children. But she can be willful and stubborn once she sets her mind to something. This run for the Assembly seat is a major step in her political career. And with the Republicans running the show and backing the police, what you propose could severely damage whatever chance she may have. These are very powerful people you’ll be battling, and the word defeat is not in their vocabulary. They’ll do whatever is necessary to protect the status quo. Don’t expect them to just roll over.”

“So what are you saying?”

Justin held up his hand. “Hold on. Sam, on the other hand, will run out into the fray with guns blazing. She’s hot-tempered and doesn’t care who knows it. Many times she thinks with that big heart of hers and not her head. Did she mention to you the death threats she’s been receiving?”

Chad’s eyes widened in alarm. “N-no. She hasn’t.”

Justin nodded. “I didn’t think she would. She believes she can handle everything. This is not the kind of think you ignore.”

Chad leaned forward. “How did you find out?”

“Purely by accident. I was in her office one day when the mail arrived. I saw her face when she opened one of the letters. I made her show it to me. That’s when she admitted it wasn’t the first one.”

“Has anything been done?”

“All the usual precautions. But it’s pretty hard to get police protection when they’re the very ones you’re going after. They won’t do anything until after the fact.”

“Damn!”

“I hired a private bodyguard. But Sam cussed him out his first day on the job, and pretty much made his life hell. He lasted about a week.”

Chad tried not to smile, but he could just imagine Sam working the poor guy over. But he quickly became somber when he reflected on the dark implications of all that Justin discussed. Death threats were serious business.

“What do you want me to do, Justin? Forget this whole thing?”

“No. Not at all. What I do want is to keep my daughters as far out of the picture as possible. I want them out of harm’s way. I know that’s not going to be easy, given their ethics and personalities.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t want them hurt by this in any way. I don’t want to see anything happen to them.”

“I understand, Justin. But the reality is, Sam and Simone are grown women. If I told them tomorrow that I’d changed my mind, that the whole idea was crazy, they’d take it upon themselves to keep moving forward. You know how they are.”

“Exactly. That’s why I want you to work closely with me. Involve them as little as possible. Stall them with the big stuff. Keep them in the background.”

Chad’s brows rose with doubt. “That’s not going to be easy.”

“None of this is,” Justin said. “And it’s only the beginning.”

Chapter 8

“Mia, has there been any word on the condition of those other two young men who were with Fields?” Samantha quizzed as she reviewed the statements from Roderick’s family. She was certain the police would try to somehow discredit Fields even if it was with something as inane as cheating on a spelling bee in grade school. She wanted to be prepared for every inevitability, including a leak of some minor juvenile offense to the press.

“No. Nothing new,” Mia said, “but take a look at this.”

Samantha peered over the top of her thin-framed designer glasses and caught the tight expression on Mia’s face. “What is it?” She felt sure she knew the answer before she read the headlines: more tragedy. She picked up the paper. Unarmed Man Shot By Police. The Washington Post article referred to another New York incident involving some undercover officers who harassed a black man during a buy-and-bust sting. When the victim didn’t offer information about the location of a nearby drug den, but rebuffed them, a violent confrontation ensued and the victim, twenty-sixyear-old Patrick Dorismond, a Haitian immigrant, was shot dead despite being unarmed.

“Another ‘accident,’ I suppose?” Samantha said with disgust, quickly digesting the details of the latest killing. She blew out an exasperated breath and pulled her glasses from her nose. “When is this going to stop?”

Mia shook her head sadly, her berry-toned face bearing an expression of grief and denial. She’d been Samantha’s assistant since she’d graduated with honors in political science from Georgetown University, and had the opportunity to meet Samantha at a voter registration rally two years earlier. She’d been so inspired by the fire and vision of Samantha Montgomery that she convinced Sam to let her work for free for the first three months—anything so that she could learn. Reluctantly, Samantha had taken her on, and never regretted a day. Mia Opoku was not only the best research assistant anyone could find, but had become a dear friend.

“Maybe when the tide turns, things will change,” Mia said without much conviction. “Or when it hits them in the pocket.”

Samantha nodded in agreement. Financial remuneration was just the route that Chad intended to take. Reparations paid for police abuses were on the rise around the country. But the scattered legal victories had done little to stem the onslaught of police shootings. She tossed the paper aside and massaged the bridge of her nose.

Muffled conversation from her staff of six and the sounds of ringing phones played havoc in the background.

Some days, like today, she wished she could walk away from it all. Walk away from the ugliness, the notoriety, the rallies, the tension, and simply have a life of her own. A quiet, simple life where her biggest worry was paying the cable bill on time so she wouldn’t miss her favorite movie. A subdued existence out of the limelight.

That, of course, was fantasy. She could no more give up her commitment, her quest, than she could give up breathing. It was an integral part of her life.

Samantha gazed up at Mia, who was looking at her pensively.

“You generally don’t have ‘that look’ until Friday,” Mia teased, attempting to push away the cloud that had suddenly appeared above her friend’s head.

Samantha tried to laugh it off. “I’m not that transparent, am I?”

Mia nodded, lips pursed. “What else is on your mind besides the usual chaos and mayhem?”

Samantha pushed her locks away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Chad is back.”

“And…”

“It was good seeing him.” She paused. “More than good.”

Mia folded her arms. “And…”

“And—well, I just…wonder what it would be like to have a real life. Settle down, home, white picket fence, family, kids, you know.”

Mia needed to take a seat. This wasn’t the Sam she knew talking.

“I like him. Always did,” she shyly admitted. “And it looks like we’re going to have the chance to work together.” She went on to explain Chad’s bold idea and all that it would entail. She looked deeply into Mia’s eyes. “I know he thinks I’m witty, intelligent, with high morals, a fighter for justice and the downtrodden. But I want him to see me as Samantha Montgomery—woman. You know what I mean. But it’s been so long since I’ve even thought of myself outside of my work, I wouldn’t know where to begin, where to separate myself. When I called him for lunch, I knew I had it all together. But lying in bed last night, the doubts slipped in. Chad seems perfect for someone like my sister Simone, not me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Samantha shrugged helplessly. “She’s talented, smart, pretty, and she has a way with men that I’ve never mastered. It was the one thing I envied about her,” she admitted. “Men flock to Simone without much effort on her part.”

“So you’ve become your work?”

“I guess,” she sighed. “I live too much in my head. In my job.”

“Believe me, I love Simone, but the only difference between you and your stepsister is that she isn’t afraid of her womanhood. She embraces it.”

“And you’re saying that I’m afraid?” she tossed back defensively.

“Thou protests too much,” Mia said with an arched brow.

Samantha backed down by degrees, knowing that Mia was right. “Okay, okay,” she finally conceded. “So now what? What do I do?”

“Depends on how much you really want him.”

Samantha’s gaze drifted away for a moment. How much did she want Chad? Or was he like everything else in her life—a challenge?

“Well,” Mia pushed out a breath and stood. “I have work to do and by the sound of what you told me, so do you.”

Samantha blinked and focused on Mia. “You’re right. I need to get busy. I’ll start pulling files that we’ve had direct contact with and later today, you have one of the interns make copies. No.” She shook her head. “You make the copies. Although I trust Nettie and Steve, they’re still young and excitable. I don’t want them running back to G.W.U. and Howard spreading the word about what we’re putting together.”

“Got it. The sooner you get them to me, the sooner I’ll have them screened and back to you.”

“Before lunch.”

Mia gave a thumbs-up and headed for the door, then stopped. “You know if you ever want to talk—about whatever—I’ll listen. Might not have much to offer in the way of advice,” she teased, “but I’ll listen to anything. No judgments.”

Samantha laughed. “That’s definitely good to know.” Her expression grew more serious. “Thanks.”

Mia waved and left.

Samantha turned her attention to the stack of reports and statements on her desk. She didn’t really see any of it. Afraid of being a woman. The telling phrase echoed in her head. Emotionally shut down. Was she? And if so, what was she willing to do about it?

Chad pored over the transcripts and police reports that Justin’s secretary had provided for him. Some were a matter of public record, others were cases that Justin, Sean or Khendra had worked on personally.

Sean and Khendra, he mused. Now they were a team. Very effective. Several years earlier they’d successfully won a multimillion-dollar lawsuit in a wrongful-death shooting. That was a case splashed all over the New York papers. If he remembered right, the victim’s brother, Quinten Parker, launched a foundation for troubled youth with the settlement.

He stroked his chin in thought. Outcomes like that are a start. But the results are contained. His goal was to have far-reaching results—long-term. Black folks would never see reparations from slavery. That was a beaten trail that would lead nowhere. But today, here and now, they had a chance to get payment for their suffering and loss, if they would band together for a single cause before there was no one, not one black man left standing.

“Knock, knock. Can I come in?”

Chad’s gaze snapped up and landed on the long, slender form framed in his doorway. For an instant, he saw her silky hair fanned out around her head like a halo, her eyes shut, mouth moist, swollen and inviting, as her body moved beneath him. That was then. It was pretty clear that that chapter in their life was closed.

He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Hey, this is a surprise.” He stood slowly.

“Pleasant?”

He rounded the desk and crossed the room. “Absolutely.” He hugged her briefly and stepped back. “Come in and get comfortable. What brings you here?” He went to the small refrigerator, opened the door and peered inside. “Something to drink?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Simone strolled to the couch and sat, crossing her stockinged legs in one smooth motion. It was a very feminine, sexy gesture that was not lost on him.

“Anything cold,” she answered, fighting to keep her eyes off his slouched body. “Did you see today’s paper?”

“Yeah.” He emerged with a chilled can of Coke and an iced tea. He handed the iced tea to Simone and sat on the far end of the couch, draping his arm along its length. “Just more fuel for the fire, baby.” He took a long swallow of the Coke. “But I know you didn’t come all the way down here to ask me if I’d read the paper.”

Simone averted her gaze, giving him her striking profile. “No, I didn’t. Actually I came to talk to Justin. But he’s not in.” Liar, liar! Why don’t you tell him the real reason?

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be gone the rest of the day. Maybe I can help you with something.”

“No. Just father-daughter talk.” She forced out a laugh.

“How’s the campaign going?”

“I’m going to headquarters when I leave here, actually. My staff is out doing polling in various areas of our district, and I’ve been trying to concentrate on strategy and my platform. Now with this class action suit you want to pull together, I’ve been trying to see how best to incorporate it into my agenda, to make it pay dividends at the ballot box, while weighing what I can do to help.”

Chad reflected on Justin’s request: Keep them as far away from it as possible.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, whatever you can do is fine with me. But I can handle it. I don’t want any of this to cloud your agenda or jeopardize your chances for election. This is going to be a very problematic call, Simone. It could cost you big-time. I’ll understand if you can’t give it one hundred percent. I want you to win. Having you in office is a greater asset than rallying the troops to storm the barricades.”

Simone stared at him, listening to the words beneath the words. Did she hear sincerity, the ring of truth, or simply that he’d prefer to work with Samantha, build something with Samantha, and leave her alone? It was getting muddled.

“I see,” she said finally. She flicked her brows. “So, I hear you and Sam are planning to hang out on Wednesday night.” His expression remained controlled, she noticed.

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the D.C. scene. It should be fun.” His gaze rolled questioningly over her tight expression. “Problem?”

“No,” she said a bit too quickly, then rose. “Why should there be?”

“Just asking, Simone. Are you all right? You seem tense.”

“Not at all. I just have a lot on my mind. Listen, I’ve got to get going. I have a meeting at three.” She headed for the door.

Chad trailed her by several paces. “We never did get that chance to talk.”

“No, we didn’t.” She kept her back to him, refusing to allow him to see the hurt in her eyes. “But that’s old news and a long time ago.”

Chad flinched, but held his tongue.

“Take care, Chad.”

“You make it sound as if we won’t see each other again.”

She spun to face him. “You’ve obviously decided on what you want to do, Chad. And that’s cool with me. We’re both adults.”

He frowned. “Wait a minute. We’ve always been honest with each other, Simone. Why do I feel that’s not what’s happening now? If you have something on your mind, say it.”

Her mouth stretched into a tight, meaningless smile. “Have fun Wednesday.” She turned away, then stopped, looked at him over her shoulder. “Don’t hurt her, Chad. She’s nothing like me. She’ll want more than one night.” With that she left, leaving him with the sting of her parting words and unresolved feelings they had yet to share.

Chapter 9

Blue Light was packed and there was a line of people waiting for tables, most of whom would have to wait for the second set. Samantha and Chad had arrived early and secured great seats right up front.

Chad dipped a buffalo wing in the blue cheese dressing and savored the spicy flavor. “Hmmm,” he hummed in reverie. “I can’t remember the last time I had these.”

Samantha laughed. “I can tell,” she said, eyeing the half-empty bowl.

“That bad, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

He wiped his mouth with a pale green paper napkin. “Making up for lost time. What can I tell you?”

“Hey, enjoy yourself.”

He looked at her for a moment, took in the sparkle in her eyes and in her smile, the smoothness of her skin, the way her body fit so perfectly in her dress.

“You really look great,” he said as if truly seeing her for the first time.

Her face heated, but she didn’t look away. “Thanks.” She’d worried for hours about what she would wear. Nothing too provocative and nothing too conservative. Finally, she’d settled on a simple peach silk sheath with spaghetti straps and just enough material to cover her from the swell of her breasts to above her knees. Her only accessories were her thin gold watch and a mesh shawl that matched her dress and looked as if it was sprinkled with diamond dust.

“Did you…date at all while you were away?” she asked, raising the glass of water to her lips.

“No. I didn’t. I was too involved with my work.”

“All the time? Even at night? Didn’t you get lonely?”

“Sure I got lonely. And no, I wasn’t busy all the time, but enough to keep me occupied. Besides, I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I became involved with someone and knew I wouldn’t be around long enough to take it any further.”

Samantha thought about Mia’s observation: Afraid of being a woman. She took a breath. “What about now?”

“What are you asking me, Sam?”

“Are you planning on staying in D.C. long enough to see if your involvement with anyone will work?”

“I plan to stay in D.C. I don’t have any immediate plans for involvement, but things change—every day.”

The band, Magique, launched into their first song and further conversation was curtailed—at least for the moment.

“Thanks for tonight, Sam. I had a great time. It was good being out again,” Chad said as Samantha eased her car to a stop in front of her parents’ home.

“Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m game.”

They were quiet for a moment, caught in that questioning moment of “what next?”

“I, uh, would invite you in, but that’s kind of ridiculous since you have a key.”

They laughed.

“Thanks, but I’ll head home. Have a busy day tomorrow. When do you think you’ll be ready for us to get together and plan a strategy?”

“Uh, I’m going to try to do as much of it as I can. Believe me, I understand how busy everyone is. And—”

“My father talked to you, didn’t he?”

“No. Well…”

“You don’t have to cover for him. I know he said something. It wouldn’t be like him not to.”

“He’s just concerned, Sam. And I don’t blame him. I should have thought it through before I tried to involve you and Simone. If I were Justin I would feel the same way.”

Samantha could feel herself seething. How dare he? She was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. When was he going to let her live her own life? She gripped the steering wheel.

“Take it easy, Sam,” he soothed, covering her hands with his.

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

“He told me about the threats. And I’m worried.”

She pressed her lips together and stared out her window. “I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t stop your folks from worrying, Samantha…or me.”

Slowly, she turned toward him, her eyes glimmering in the soft night light.

Chad gently cupped her chin. “I wouldn’t want to be the cause of anything happening to you,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” His eyes held her and she wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart, hear the one thought racing through her head: kiss me, kiss me.

Never in his life had he felt so torn. The urge to take her in his arms, feel the softness of her against him, nearly blocked out the fact that once upon a time he’d slept with her sister, carried that one night with him for four years. Did she know? Did it matter to her? And yet, here he was, inches away from her lips, wanting her with an intensity that rocked him. He was afraid. Afraid of what that meant and where this simple kiss would take them.

And then all at once he tasted her, the shivering sweet sensation of her. He gave in to the tender pull of her mouth against his. Memory faded. It was only the here and now, with Samantha.

She let go, let the moment seize her, savored it, took and gave, and it was just as she thought it would be, only better.

An eternity passed, but it was only seconds, seconds that changed everything—and them.

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