Surrender To Me. Donna Hill
of her pulse in the dip of her throat that belied her cool exterior. Her sleek right brow rose in question as she took him in with one long glance.
“Clearly you’re not one of the waitstaff,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Rafe Lawson.”
Her eyes widened for a split second. “Oh, the scandalous one.”
He dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. “Guilty as charged, cher, but I have perfectly reasonable explanations for everything.”
Her eyes sparkled when the light hit them. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Lawson.”
“So what can I get for you that won’t interfere with you being on duty?”
She tensed ever so slightly.
“Trust me. I’ve grown up in this life. I can spot Secret Service a mile away. Although I must admit that you bring class to the dark suits and Ray-Bans.”
She glanced past him to where her colleague stood near the vice president. In one fluid motion she gave a barely imperceptible lift of her chin, a quick scan of the room and said, “Nice to meet you,” as she made a move to leave.
He held her bare arm. “Tell me your name,” he commanded almost in her ear. He inhaled her, felt the slight shiver that gripped her.
“Avery.”
Rafe released her and followed the dangerously low-cut back of her dress until she was out of sight.
“Smells delicious.”
Rafe blinked, glanced over his shoulder. Definitely cute, but she wasn’t Avery. He took two plates from the overhead cabinet and set them on the table. “Help yourself to coffee.”
“Thanks.”
He spooned the eggs onto a platter and added the bacon. “Toast?”
“No. I’m fine with this.”
Rafe poured himself a glass of orange juice, straddled the stool and sat. “How long have you been working with my sister, six months?”
“Just about.”
He watched her over the rim of his glass as she tried to remain ladylike when she took a half spoonful of eggs and one strip of bacon when he knew damn well she had to be starving because he was.
He lifted the serving spoon from the platter, loaded it with eggs and plopped it on her plate, followed by two strips of bacon.
“We’ve already experienced carnal knowledge, honey, no point in putting on a show now. Eat like you mean it.” He winked and filled his plate.
“I...want you to know that... I don’t do this.”
“What’s that, Shante, eat breakfast?”
She sputtered a laugh. “No. I mean...spend the night with a man the first time I meet him.”
He chewed thoughtfully. “Hmm. Okay.” He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I consider it an honor, cher.” He watched her sandy brown skin flush then tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. His fingers instinctively caressed the smooth lock. “Eat up. I’ll drop you home before I take care of the rest of my day.”
* * *
Rafe preferred the black Range Rover for his everyday use rather than either of his two cars or his motorcycle. Plus the roominess gave him an artificial sense of distance when he knew it would be the last official time he’d drop a woman at her door. The intimacy of a car made parting more difficult.
“Thanks for a great evening...and breakfast,” Shante said. She smiled shyly.
“It was my pleasure.” He remotely unlocked the doors, got out and came around to her side. He held her hand to help her out.
Shante glanced up at him and he knew this was the “I’ll call you” moment that wouldn’t happen.
Rafe leaned down and placed a long, tender kiss on her forehead, ran his thumb along the line of her jaw, turned and got back in the Rover.
A spark of guilt ignited with the turn of the key. It always did at times like this. He checked his mirrors and slowly pulled off.
No sooner had he driven away and gotten back on the main road than his cell phone rang. He pressed an icon on the dash and his sister Dominique’s voice came through the speaker.
“Tell me that you did not take Shante home with you last night.”
“Well hello, Dom, and how are you today?”
“Don’t play with me, Raford Lawson.”
Anytime his family used his full name he knew he had to brace for the inevitable tongue-lashing. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Damn it, Rafe!”
“What? She’s grown and so am I.”
“That’s not the point and you know it.”
“No. I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me like I know you want to do.”
Dominique sighed heavily. “You run through women like socks, Rafe. Shante’s a nice girl and—”
“And I treated her like a nice woman. There is no way that she could say anything different.”
“I know that. That’s the problem. You treat them all like princesses and then poof, move on. Telephone book of broken hearts.”
“Bit of an exaggeration, sis.” He turned onto the street where his club was located.
“We work together, Rafe. I don’t need her grilling me about you and whining in my ear when you don’t call.”
“What makes you think I won’t call?”
“Will you?” She pushed out a frustrated breath when silence hung between them. “Aggh. If you weren’t my brother...”
Rafe chuckled. “Love you, too, sis. Gotta go.”
“Fine. Try to stay out of trouble.”
“Always.” He pulled into his parking spot. He disconnected the call and cut the engine.
Dominique, unlike her twin Desiree, had no problem saying what was on her mind regardless of how her remarks fell on the ears and souls of her target. She’d softened somewhat since she got together with Trevor Jackson. But even he couldn’t always keep the lid on Dominique. Now that their eldest sister, Lee Ann, was married and expecting, Dominique took on the role as head Lawson woman in charge.
He had to laugh. As much as he loved his siblings they could be a bit much at times, never mind that he was the eldest son. With three females, he and his younger brother Justin didn’t stand a chance.
Rafe entered the club through the back door. He flipped on lights as he strolled through. No matter how many times he crossed the gray marble floors, walked behind the circular bar or looked out onto the eclectic crowd that packed the house night after night, he still got that rush. This was his, the one thing separate and apart from the Lawson legacy of money, politics and backdoor deals, much to his father’s horror.
From the time he was old enough to walk and talk, his father, Branford, began to groom him for politics. And from the moment Rafe was old enough to think for himself he resented what his father wanted for him. The last footsteps he wanted to walk in were his father’s and that caused a rift between father and son that had spanned the better part of his adult life.
Fortunately, his sister Lee Ann married Sterling, a senator, and Justin had taken up the Lawson mantel, gotten his law degree and had begun to carve a name for himself in civil liberties law with his private law firm. It was only a matter of time before he pursued public office.
Rafe went behind the bar and fixed himself a quick shot of bourbon. Sure it was early, but what the hell. He placed his phone on the