“Point taken.” He paused a moment. “So what do you see beneath my layer?”
She looked up into his eyes. Her heart suddenly thumped. “That’s what we’ll have to find out. Won’t we?”
“You’ve been monopolizing this beautiful woman all night, Claude.”
Claude turned to his left. “Rafe. Your father was just looking for you.”
Rafe chuckled and his light-brown eyes sparkled in the light. “I’m sure he was,” he murmured, the hint of his Louisiana accent seeping through. He stepped closer and zeroed in on Melanie. “Raford Lawson,” he said, taking her hand. “Melanie Harte.”
“My pleasure.” He kissed her hand. “Dance with me.”
She hesitated a moment. “Of course. Please excuse me, Claude.”
Claude gave a short nod of his head as Rafe escorted Melanie onto the dance floor.
“So Melanie Harte, what brings you to this stuffy affair?” He took her hand in his—the other went to the small of her back as they swayed to the music.
Melanie laughed lightly. “My brother Alan invited me.”
He arched his neck back and looked down into her face. “Alan Harte is your brother?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said over his laughter.
“You’re that Melanie Harte. Your grandmother fixed up my daddy and mama.”
“So the story goes.”
He stepped back, released her and made a gallant bow. “I am in the arms of greatness,” he teased.
Melanie shook her head and chuckled. “You are much too dramatic.”
He swept her back into his arms and whispered deep in her ear. “I’ve been called much worse.”
They danced together for two more songs before Melanie begged off.
“Save the last dance for me,” Rafe said with a light kiss on her cheek.
He was definitely a charmer, she thought with amusement as she watched him saunter away toward a group of beautiful women, who all but swooned when he approached. Melanie shook her head and smiled.
“I see you’ve already become acquainted with my son,” Senator Lawson said.
Melanie turned in his direction. “Yes. He’s certainly a charmer.”
The senator chuckled. “Oh, is that what you call it?”
“What would you call it?”
“Oh, I’d never say what I thought to a lady.” He winked. “But I will say that he needs taming. Rafe is a free spirit. Can’t get him to settle down to anything serious. But I think the right woman could do what me and the whole damn family have not been able to,” he said, his Creole background filtering through. “That’s where you come in. I’d like to secure your services.”
“Are you sure he would be agreeable?”
“Every now and again I can get the boy to listen to me. And if it has anything to do with women, he’ll listen.”
Melanie’s right brow rose for an instant. “I’m sure we could find someone special for your son.”
“Good. I’m counting on it. I want Rafe to step into my shoes one day and I want him to have a good woman at his side—someone strong enough to stand up against some of his foolishness.”
She drew in a breath, reached in her purse and handed him her card. “If he’s willing and when he’s ready, have him call me.”
The senator took the card and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “It will be sooner than you think.”
Melanie moved around the room, chatting with many of the familiar faces and catching up on the political gossip. Throughout the evening she caught glimpses of Claude and each time her insides quaked. It was clear that he was a man completely comfortable in who he was and how he’d gotten there. She noticed the way he held his muscular body, never lording his height over people but rather inviting them into his space. He focused on people when they talked as if they were the only person in the world that mattered. He was intelligent, witty, a great dancer and well-connected. Yes, on the surface, Claude Montgomery was a man that any woman would desire. Not to mention that his sex appeal was off the charts.
Then there was Raford Lawson. There was no doubt that Rafe could charm a blind woman out of her panties. He was breathtakingly gorgeous from the natural waves of his ink black hair, the honey brown of his eyes, his dark sweeping brows down to his imported Italian shoes. He was wealthy, spoiled and brought up to believe that he could have whatever he wanted. He was like an unbridled Arabian stallion: magnificent and wild, never harnessed and never ridden. His father was right. It would take a special woman to rein in Rafe Lawson. Inwardly, she smiled. The Platinum Society would certainly have their work cut out for them.
As the family was preparing to leave, Raford stopped Melanie at the door. He took a sip of his bourbon. “My father insists that you can find me the perfect woman.” He extracted the card his father had given him from his pocket and held it between his two fingers.
“It’s what we do.” A glint lit her eyes.
The corner of his exquisite mouth curved upward. “You’re on Ms. Harte. Expect my call.” He winked and walked away.
“What was that about?” Veronica asked, draping her wrap across her shoulders.
Melanie turned to her niece. “It seems that we may have two new clients instead of one.”
“What do you think about Claude?” Alan asked as they headed back to Sag Harbor, cocooned in the luxury of a stretch limousine. Everyone chimed in except Melanie. Sensing she was being scrutinized, she glanced up and focused. “What?”
“You were definitely someplace else,” Alan teased.
“I was asking what you thought of Claude.”
That’s exactly who she was thinking of when she’d zoned out of the conversation. “I’m sure we can find someone for him. On the surface he totally fits our criteria. Of course we’ll know much better after Veronica works up his profile.”
“And Senator Lawson wants us to find someone for his son,” Veronica added.
“Rafe?” Alan asked, clearly surprised.
Melanie nodded her head. “That’s what he told me.”
“And Rafe agreed?”
“He told me in no uncertain terms that I would be hearing from him,” Melanie said. “It was almost a challenge.”
Alan chuckled and leaned back against the plush leather seats. “Trust me, it will be.”
“Rafe, are you ready to leave? I’m tired.”
Rafe turned his gaze away from the entourage as they said their good-nights. He focused on the lovely woman in front of him. For a moment he couldn’t recall her name. It didn’t matter really. They all loved being called sweetheart or baby. He set down his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and turned his hundred-watt smile on his date.
“Not too tired,” he teased, trailing his finger along the curve of her exposed back.
She