Sex, Lies & Sweet Tea Page 9

  “It’s okay, Chuck.” I gave him a smile and watched Stacy’s shoulders tense.

  “Here, Sam,” Stacy blurted, walking around the desk and shoving an envelope into my hand. “Chuck, are you ready to go to lunch?”

  “Yeah,” Chuck agreed, ogling my breasts.

  “Chuck?” Stacy snapped her fingers impatiently.

  “I’m ready.” His exasperated tone made it hard for me to hold in my giggle, but I did.

  “Thank you for the envelope.”

  “I’ll be back in an hour.” She picked up her purse and motioned for Chuck to follow.

  I walked back into my office, turning the envelope over and over in my hands. It was thick cream stationery heavy with importance. There was no postage and no return address—only a single line of ink—Miss Samantha Peterson.

  I used the letter opener from my desk to perfectly slice the top, not mussing the back flap. It was so beautiful I almost felt as if I were violating the paper stock. The envelope was lined in gold, and I slid out a heavyweight card. On the front was an embossed crest—a shield with a fox playing under a grove of trees and one word—Callahan.

  The butterflies started again. I sprang from my desk with excitement and nearly sprinted through the hallways to get to Mimi’s suite. Mac Callahan was asking me to dinner and I couldn’t wait to see what Mimi would have to say.

  “Mimi,” I exclaimed as I burst into her room without knocking.

  “Is everything okay?” She woke with a start, sitting up from her chair, alarmed.

  “Everything is great! Wait, what am I saying?” I immediately buried my face in my hands and sat on the couch in a heap. “Everything isn’t great.”

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  I’d never been a girl who got excited or giddy over a man, and I was scaring Mimi as much as I was surprising myself. I handed over the invitation. “Look.”

  “Seems you have an invitation to dinner, dear.”

  “Yes, Mimi,” I replied, trying unsuccessfully to stay calm. “I see that.”

  “What’s the big deal, Sam?” she asked, handing it back to me with a sly smile.

  “The big deal is, this wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.” I nervously rambled through my words as Mimi stared at me with nothing but a smile on her face. “I thought maybe it would just be the one night—the one kiss. Mimi, I could live off that kiss for a few months.”

  “If he has this kind of effect on you, Sam, I think you should see what it means.”

  “What it means?” I questioned. “What it means? I know what it means. I’ll tell him I am a widow and a mother, and that will end it.” I paced the room, unable to contain the extra energy I gained from merely holding the card in my hand.

  “How did you leave it with him last night?”

  “I said goodnight.”

  “That’s all?” Mimi probed.

  “I said goodnight and he asked if he could call me.” I walked in circles, ambling from one side of the room to the other.

  “He asked if he could call you?” she questioned, trying to keep up with my frantic pace.

  “No,” I stopped. “He said, ‘Do you mind if I call on you.’”

  “I thought so,” Mimi said, concealing her smile.

  “You thought what?”

  “He’s courting you, my dear.”

  “Courting? What do you mean? Courting? Do people still court? It is the twenty-first century.”

  “He’s clearly a well-born Southern gentleman. He’s showing you respect.”

  Speechless, I stared into Mimi’s face for answers.

  “Come here, darlin’. Sit with me and eat a little lunch. I ordered you a salad. Let’s talk.”

  “I don’t feel like eating.” I tensed as my phone buzzed with a new text message.

  “Sure you do,” Mimi said. “You just don’t know it yet. Now, sit.”

  I settled in across from her at the small dining table and looked at my phone:

  KING: Sam this is King. I got your email. Let’s chat soon. BTW, I need to hear three words from you.

  I laughed a little at myself and immediately texted him back.

  SAMANTHA: Monday? Dinner Rose Hill.

  KING: Perfect. I’ll catch up with you in your office. Or maybe we can catch up over “dinner.”

  I smiled to myself. I had one man sending me formal invitations to dinner and another literally flirting with the idea. I closed my eyes and thought if either of them really knew who I was, they’d rethink their advances.

  I refocused and turned to Mimi. “I just don’t get it. Why would Mac be interested in me?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be interested in you, dear?” Mimi asked. “Whether you believe it or not, you’re a beautiful young woman with a wonderful education and a tremendous upbringing. Mr. Callahan knows quality when he sees it.”

  “I don’t feel like any of those things,” I confessed.

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You need to respond to his invitation. You need to let him know if you are accepting or declining.”

  Using her walker as a brace, Mimi slowly rose from the table and made her way to her writing desk. “I’ll give you some stationery, and together we’ll reply to Mr. Callahan.”

  “Please sit down, Mimi,” I said scolding her like a child. “If you’ll tell me where, I’ll get it.”

  “I’m old, honey, but I’m not dead,” she replied as she continued across the room. “Here,” she said, holding out a card and envelope she took from her top drawer. “Take this.”

  Slipping the card from her frail hand, I noticed the one purple lilac beautifully hand-painted on the front. As Mimi shuffled back to the table, I looked at it, still dazed.

  Without thinking, I grabbed a pen off of Mimi’s desk, walked to the table and began to write. I didn’t know if I was crazy or just overly brave because more than one man was making advances.

  “That was quick,” Mimi said. “Whatever your first instinct was, it was the correct one. What did you write?”

  I passed the notecard across the table without saying a word.

  Miss Samantha Peterson accepts with pleasure

  the kind invitation of Mr. Mac Callahan to dinner.

  Friday, March twenty-ninth, at seven o’clock.

  8

  MAC

  “Hey, Micah.” I’d decided to call the office early in order to get most of my work out of the way. I wanted my afternoon free for a visit with Momma.

  “Mac,” Micah rasped. “How’s it going in Alabama? Any leads?”

  “I’ve met a few people,” I explained, settling in comfortably behind my dad’s desk. “Nosed around a little. No one knows I’m working a case, they think I’m here to visit with Mom.”

  “I must admit,” Micah said, her voice deep and hoarse from the years of tar and nicotine. “It’s the perfect cover.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I replied with a sigh, not really into work mode yet. “Micah, I need you to run some names. Can you do that for me?”

  “Sure, I’m ready.”

  “Run a check on James Miller. He’s the administrator at the hospital. I saw him working late last night and I think he’s probably up to no good.”

  “James Miller—got it. Who else?”

  “Stacy Little, she works in the admin office too. In fact, run a check on everyone in the administration and the accounting offices at Autumn Valley. And Micah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Run a check on a bastard named Chuck. Works in security.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “Okay, that’s all for now. Send me those as soon as you can. Yak atcha later.”

  “Only if you’re lucky.”

  Two things off my list. The first order of the day was to send a dinner invitation to Samantha. Second, call Micah. Now I was ready to work off some tension—physical, mental and sexual.

  All morning I’d thought of her. I couldn’t get her out of my h
ead. I mulled over every detail of her body, her sexy personality and her charming way. Knowing I might see her again soon was catching me strangely off guard. It wasn’t my style to be so completely blindsided by a woman.

  I changed my clothes and went for a swim in the pool behind the main house. After a mile of laps, I still couldn’t shake her. I went to the full gym and steam shower in the basement and pumped iron for forty-five minutes, making sure I did extra curls for my biceps. If Sam was going to be on my arm, I wanted her to have something to hang on to.

  I’d never let a woman this far into my head. In fact, I didn’t know if I’d ever let a woman occupy my thoughts this way—even after I’d bedded her.

  The more I thought about her the hornier I got. With the invitation out, work on hold until I heard from the office, I decided to clean up and go for a visit with Momma.

  I stripped and climbed in the steam shower. Sitting on the bench, I closed my eyes and allowed the tension to seep from my body. Over and over I saw her face and those beautiful eyes. Wait, the eyes. The girl in my crazy sex dream.

  “What the hell,” I muttered, feeling like I was going crazy. I turned on the warm water and showered and shaved. My body was tired, but my mind raced. Who was this woman who’d left my common sense in ruins? Had I really found the woman in my dream? I shook my head, trying to snap myself back into reality where dreams were just that—dreams.

  Reality was D.C., where I could just meet a woman and take her home for some fun. I wasn’t proud of my ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ reputation, but I never made promises to women. I knew I would never keep them.

  I took the elevator from the basement to the third floor where my bedroom was located so I wouldn’t scare Miss Celia in my towel. It was a later addition to the original house, but a necessary one. My grandparents had lived to a ripe old age, and the elevator came in handy when the tremendous number of steps needed to get around in the house became an obstacle.

  I dressed casually for my afternoon visit with Momma. Tan linen pants and a white short-sleeved linen shirt I left un-tucked. I slipped on my loafers without socks and grabbed my gold ring, the keys to Pussy and my Ray Ban’s from the valet on the dresser.

  “Miss Celia?” I called out, bounding down the staircase.

  “Yes, baby,” she replied, coming from the back of the house to meet me in the foyer.

  “I’ll be home tonight, unless Momma’s having a really good day and agrees to have supper with me.”

  “I’ll cook, baby, and you can eat whenever you want.”

  “Thank you.” I was almost out the door. “Oh, Miss Celia?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve invited a guest for dinner on Friday evening. A young lady.”

  She flashed a delighted smile my way.

  “I’d like dinner to be special. Memorable is probably a better word.”

  “I’ll take care of it. What time?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  She nodded. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  *

  After arriving at Autumn Valley, I went directly to Mom’s room. I feared I might bump into Sam, and I didn’t want her to think I was stalking her—although it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities considering she consumed all my thoughts.

  As I approached her suite, the door was open and the lights were on. “Momma?”

  “Hello?” I heard her say.

  “Hi Momma. It’s Mac.”

  “Hi, honey,” she cooed, motioning me to come in with her hand.

  I was beyond thankful that she knew me. “How are you today?”

  “I’m good, honey,” she said as I kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, Mac. How have you been?”

  “I’m great.” I was so excited she’d transformed from the cocoon of a woman who didn’t know me yesterday into my mother, the butterfly. She was dressed in a green sweater set, and a double strand of pearls graced her elegant neck. I loved seeing her as herself again. “What have you been up to today?”

  “Oh, the usual.”

  I laughed, knowing I had absolutely no idea what her normal was. “What’s the usual, Momma?”

  “A visit with the doctor, a visit with a friend, a little reading,” she quickly ran through her list. “And now my handsome son is here to see me.”

  I leaned in and gave her a tight hug. Her mind was clear as a bell today. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to, Mac.” She gestured for me to have a seat and I immediately obeyed her wish.

  “Just working,” I answered excitedly, feeding off her clear energy.

  “When are you going to slow down? When are you going to settle down?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, Momma.” I sighed, suddenly wondering how this could be what she would want to chat about. “I guess when I find the right girl.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “May I join you for supper tonight? I mean, if you don’t have other plans.”

  “Oh Mac, of course I don’t have plans.” She laughed and coyly waved me off. “I would love for you to join me.”

  “What would you like? I’ll order a special dinner service from the kitchen.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll just have a salad. I’m watching my weight.”

  “Jeez, Momma,” I replied, picking up the menu by the phone on her desk. “You are skin and bones now. I don’t think you should worry about gaining weight. Let’s just pick something healthy.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a chicken salad sandwich. And don’t forget to order extra sweet tea. You know how I love my sweet tea.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When our dinner came to her suite, the wait staff set a small table for us. I took her hand, placed it through my arm and escorted her to her chair.

  “Momma?”

  “Yes, honey,” she said as the waiter lit two small votive candles on the table. I slipped him a tip and nodded to him that I would take over from here.

  “When did you know Dad was the one for you?” I asked, placing the starched white napkin in her lap and pouring the sweet tea.

  “There were so many things about your father that I adored, it would be hard to pick just one thing,” she said, smoothing tablecloth.

  “But something made you know he was the one. Right?”

  She took a drink of her sweet tea and thought about my question. “I couldn’t live without him.”

  “That was it? But how did you know you couldn’t live without him?”

  “Because when he was gone, I was—empty,” she replied, suddenly looking sad.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, Momma.” I took her hand across the table. “I think sometimes I wouldn’t know love if it smacked me across the face and bought me a beer.”

  She giggled and caressed the top of my hand with her thumb. “Believe me, honey, you’ll know. Love might not buy you a beer, but it will surely smack you. Focus on being the right man, and you’ll find the right girl.”

  I took a deep breath, thinking about Samantha and how she made me feel. “Home makes me think about you and Dad—what you had together. I don’t know if I’ll find that in D.C.”

  “Then leave D.C.” She blurted out the words without hesitation.

  “It’s not that easy, Momma.” She had no idea how entwined I was with the Bureau. I’d put in five tough years, working my way up the ladder, arresting one piece of shit at a time. It was tireless, unforgiving work, but the thrill of it drove me. It was the one place I felt good about myself.

  “Why not?” Momma asked. “Life starts to move really fast the older you get, Mac. I don’t want you to miss the good parts because you were working.”

  “Dad worked.”

  “Yes, he worked very hard. But he always knew what was important. What’s important to you, Mac?” she asked poignantly.

  “You are, Momma. You are important to me.”

  “Honey, you’re important to me too,” she said with a smile, taking back h
er hand. “But don’t be a fool. There’s a life waiting for you that isn’t filled with the dregs of society.”

  “I understand.” I agreed with her. I knew how much she worried about me.

  She took a bite of her sandwich. It was good to see her eat and carry on a regular conversation. It felt like old times—familiar and comfortable.

  I kissed her goodnight and drove home with the top down, thinking about what she said. Could I really have what my parents had shared? I was, as usual, filled with doubt on the subject of love. But after visiting with Momma, a glimmer of hope sparked inside me. I knew I would never fulfill the life my dad planned for me, but was another existence possible? Part of me had seen too much of the foul world we lived in working for the FBI and living in D.C. I knew I was tainted, but in the few days I’d been home, I was bombarded with beautiful gifts: my family, Lone Oak, and most of all, Samantha.

  I came into the house through the front door and went straight to Dad’s study. I sat behind the massive desk where he’d planned his life and my future. All the important moments at Lone Oak happened in this room. All the father-son talks, the decision to go to Cornell, as well as Harvard Law School—everything, all of it, happened in this room. It was here he gave me my family crest ring, and where he told me to follow my dreams. I sat at his desk and wondered what he would think of me now. I had followed my dreams, but I was unfulfilled. He would know what to say to me, and I wished he were here to say it.

  I turned on the desk light to find a single small envelope sitting in the middle of the desk pad. I opened it and a wonderful smell wafted out. On the cover was a purple flower—a lilac.

  Inside the card, I read the words that I wanted to see. Samantha would indeed be my guest on Friday evening.

  What was it about this girl? Was it nostalgia from being home? I was driving around in my dad’s old car, wishing I had the relationship my parents had, sleeping in my old room and dragging out an investigation that I could probably wrap in a week. Yet I didn’t want to leave any of it. And I’d be damned if I could explain it.