I Heard A Rumor (3 page)

Chante stopped reading and smiled. Oh, she remembered Theodore Tanner, the former R&B singer who had been good friends with her grandmother for years. She always wondered if there was more between them. But she didn't want to think about her grandmother, at her age, doing that!

She continued reading.

Chante couldn't help but smile as she read her grandmother's note. She always knew how to lift her spirits. She remembered coming to her grandmother's house when she and her mother had had one of their many disagreements, and Elsie Mae would smooth everything over with banana bread and cinnamon tea.

Chante started her car and headed for the hotel. She was glad she could hide out in Charleston because her phone had still been blowing up with calls from the Charlotte media before she turned it off.

Of course, she told Liza that she'd be out of pocket for a week or so and that if her friend needed to get in touch with her she should send her an e-mail. She was sure that Liza wouldn't need her; if anything, she'd need Liza to give her another statement or advice on handling the media. But she didn't want to bother her friend with her issues. This was the first year of Jackson's term, and he was busy. That meant Liza was busy as well.

The couple were splitting their time between Raleigh and Charlotte while the General Assembly was in session, and the last thing Chante wanted was to be a bother to her friend. Liza had weathered a storm of rumors and lies, thanks to Robert, and Chante wasn't going to drag her into it again.

Robert. Just the thought of that bastard made her want to commit a crime of passion. Well, not really passion in the traditional sense of the word, but more in the legal sense. He had turned her life upside-down again with another lie. She wouldn't support him running from a dog, so forget running for mayor. And take him back? Please. Even if it was just for show, there was no way in hell she'd go along with that. She wouldn't take him to a trash can. And for him to think she'd help him hoodwink the people of Charlotte again. He was a damned fool! That would be stupid. And Chante Britt was not stupid.

She arrived at the hotel and sighed. It hadn't been what she planned, but Sheldon Richardson's Charleston Harbor Bed and Breakfast would be a great place to rest and relax. Maybe she would take her grandmother's advice and have some fun, but she wasn't sure about that flirting with a stranger part. As soon as she pulled underneath the entrance canopy, a valet and a bellhop appeared.

“Greetings, ma'am,” the valet said. “May I park your car?”

“Thank you,” she said as she handed him the keys.

“Do you have bags?” the bellhop asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “they're in the trunk.” The valet popped the trunk, and the bellhop placed Chante's luggage on a rolling cart and waited for her to enter the lobby.

“Good evening, and welcome to the Charleston Harbor Bed and Breakfast,” the front desk clerk said with a huge smile on her face. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, it's under either Chante Britt or Elsie Mae Cooper.”

The woman typed some information and then looked up at Chante. “Yes, Miss Britt, I have a suite for you.” She handed Chante a key card with the number to her suite on the front of it. “If you would take the guest elevators behind you, your suite will be the second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” she said, then walked over to the elevator with the bellhop in tow. As the doors opened, a tall brown-skinned man nearly bowled them over as he stepped off.

“Jerk,” Chante muttered as she and the bellhop got stepped into the elevator car.

“Everybody is in a hurry,” the bellhop said.

“Not me,” Chante said. “I'm just going to relax and take it slow.”

“Sounds like a good plan. So you're on vacation in the Palmetto City?”

Chante smiled and nodded. Damn, it felt good to be unnoticed and unknown. When she left Charlotte, a crew from a local news station had followed her until she crossed the state line at Rock Hill. She couldn't help but wonder if the media were still camped out at her house. She almost felt sorry for the reporters who had been assigned to wait her out and get a statement. Hopefully they were getting paid by the hour.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay,” he said as they arrived at her suite, breaking into her thoughts of Charlotte. Chante opened the door, and the bellhop took her luggage in. While he set her bags in the walk-in closet, Chante took the time to look around the suite. It was beautiful. Lush beige carpets, and a tan and beige comforter spread across the queen-size bed. Had she been in the room alone, she might have jumped on the bed.

Crossing over to the glass doors, she pulled the curtains back and saw that her balcony looked out onto the beach. The sky was turning purple, and stars were starting to sparkle in the distance. Chante was glad she was high enough up to be able to keep her curtains open and watch the night sky.

“Miss Britt, have a good night,” the bellhop said. She crossed over to him and handed him a tip.

“Thank you.”

Nodding at her, he left the room, and Chante broke out into a happy dance. Then she fell back on the bed, sinking into the softness. And she would've been fine going to sleep, but a rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had a bite to eat since she'd left Charlotte earlier that afternoon.

There was no way she was going to sleep hungry, not when Charleston had so much food to offer. And she knew that Sheldon Richardson had a five-star restaurant in each of his hotels and resorts. Her mouth watered as she thought about getting some legitimate shrimp and grits—fresh seafood from the Charleston bay and perfectly seasoned grits with the right amount of butter and salt.

Heading to the bathroom to freshen up, Chante changed out of her jeans and T-shirt and put on a strapless maxi dress and a pair of gladiator sandals. After dinner, maybe she'd take a quiet walk on the beach, then go to bed.

Smoothing some lip gloss on her lips and giving herself a quick once-over, Chante headed down to the hotel restaurant.

Zach was happy to see sports on the television above the bar as he sipped his whiskey. He had to stop drinking because he was supposed to be relaxing. Still, the news report about his ex had gotten under his skin. Would someone who mattered in Charleston see the national reports and put two and two together when he started to do business?

Forget about it. You haven't even found an opportunity yet,
he thought as he waved for the bartender.

“Yes, sir?” the perky blonde asked with a smile.

“I think I need some food to go along with this drink. What would a pretty lady like you suggest?” Zach smiled, and she leaned forward.

“You can never go wrong with shrimp and grits,” she said with a smile.

“Then I'd like an order of shrimp and grits.”

“All right, sugar, I'll put that in for you. Want another Apple Crown?”

He shook his head and handed her a twenty-dollar bill for a tip. “Thank you for your suggestion.”

“My pleasure,” she said as she slipped the money in her pocket.

Zach turned his back to the bar as she walked away and glanced at the door. When he saw her walk in, he had to check his mouth for drool. Maybe it was the way her long dress hugged her curves, or maybe it was her shoulders. She had the gait of a queen, and that was just as attractive as her curly honey brown hair.
Southern girl,
he thought as she headed toward the bar. The restaurant was packed, which made him hope she was going to sit at the bar. And she did. Only it wasn't as close to him as he'd wanted. But he was able to drink in the brown-skinned woman's beauty.

As he watched her lips while she talked to the bartender, Zach tried to remember the last time he'd made love to a woman. Looking at this woman made him want to change that right now.

Sex had been one of the reasons he'd slid a three-carat diamond ring on his ex's finger and asked her to marry him. But even before he found out what she had been doing, their sex life had dwindled. That was why he'd believed she was having an affair.

In the beginning of their marriage, Natalie had acted as if she couldn't get enough of him. They'd made love every chance they had. Even as his business took off, he'd never left his wife unsatisfied. Then, about three years ago, she had been the one who had stopped wanting intimacy. Having no idea why, Zach had thrown himself into his work.

Then, following her arrest on tax evasion charges, he'd learned the truth about his wife's activities. A prostitution ring? Part of him had wished there had been another man. Didn't she realize she wasn't Heidi Fleiss?

The arrest hadn't been the worst; that came when he read the arrest warrant, which said his wife had been more than the “Harlem Madame.” Natalie had been accused of selling herself as well as pimping other young women. And some of the women who'd worked for Natalie were eighteen, which made him feel really awful. It might not have been child trafficking, but it was close enough. His twin sister, Zoe, had wanted to strangle Natalie when Zach had told her about the arrest.

Sex hadn't been in the forefront of his mind; in fact, Zach had taken a vow of chastity—in New York. But this wasn't New York, and the game had changed.

She glanced his way and—did she just roll her eyes at him?
So much for southern hospitality,
he thought, never taking his eyes off her pretty toes. He was a man with a minor foot fetish, and she had the feet of a goddess. That pink polish on her toes reminded him of strawberries.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice sounding melodic. “Will you please find something else to focus on?”

“What?”

“You've been sitting here staring at me as if you've never seen a woman or you were just released from prison.”

“I can't admire a beautiful woman?”

“I don't give a damn what you do, as long as you do it someplace else and out of my face.”

“Whoa, little mama, you need to relax. Maybe I was building up my nerve to offer to buy you a drink.”

She gave him a slow once-over as if she was mulling over his statement. “Whatever,” she snapped.

“You need to loosen up and smile. I know you have a beautiful one.”

She rolled her eyes. Unfazed, Zach eased closer to her stool and extended his hand. “Zachary Harrington.”

Did she really just ignore his hand? Where did they do that? Obviously right here.

“Do you want my hand to fall off?”

She tried not to smile, but Zach saw her lips twitch. “Go ahead and smile,” he said. “It's not going to hurt anything.”

“Whatever. Just look at something over there.”

“Why would I do that when the view here is flawless?”

She rolled her eyes again and waved for the bartender. “Are there any tables open yet?” she asked.

The blonde shook her head. “But you can order dinner here at the bar if you don't want to wait.”

She glanced down at Zach. Did she really just size him up?

“Fine,” she said. “May I have a menu, please?”

She looks good,
he thought as he turned away for a second.
But she is uptight as hell. Probably an ice queen in bed.
He stole another glance at her—and this time he caught her staring right back at him.

Zach smiled and lifted his drink to her. She turned away, and he couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or annoyed.

Chante wanted to slap herself for getting caught looking at Zachary Harrington. She couldn't think of a word to describe this man's looks. He was like a chocolate-dipped Adonis. He had dimples, and she was such a sucker for dimples. And those sparking whiskey-brown eyes.

But if he wasn't one of the most arrogant men she'd met in a long time!
To hell with Zachary Harrington and his gift to women attitude! Who in the hell does he think he is?
But something about him stirred an itch between her thighs. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, she couldn't help but think how long it had been since she had been touched by a man's hand, held in arms as strong as Zachary's looked. There she was, staring again!

Stop looking at this man. Who vacations alone? His wife or girlfriend is probably upstairs, mad because of something he did,
Chante thought as she turned her eyes to the menu. As much as she didn't want to, she glanced at him again.

“Okay, now you're looking at me,” he said with a brilliant smile.

“And?”

“When the shoe was on the other foot, there was a problem,” he said.

Chante started to say something smart, but she held her tongue. “Listen,” she began, “I'm trying to relax. I thought I was going to be staying someplace else, and I ended up here. Maybe I was a little harsh, but being looked at as a piece of meat isn't appealing to anyone.”

“My apologies,” he replied and smiled. “If you felt like a piece of meat, that was not my intention.”

Chante wished she had a drink to cool the heat building in her stomach. What was it about this man that had ignited her passion, which had been dormant? She crossed her legs again and thought about the last time she'd been touched. Robert had been passionless, even the first time they made love. She'd excused it, assuming he was nervous; everything had been so new between the two of them, and she just knew it would get better. It never did.

Her gaze fell on Zach's hands. Big hands. Long fingers. How good would his touches be? Would he make her scream and moan in pleasure?

“So do I just call you beautiful, or are you going to tell me your name?”

“Chante.”

“Chante. Just one name, like Madonna?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Are you always this corny?”

“What did he do?”

“Excuse me?”

Zach folded his arms and smiled. “Come on, a woman doesn't just come to a place like this alone because her man made her happy.”

Chante rolled her eyes. She didn't want to talk about Robert and why she'd hightailed it to Charleston. “Who said it was a man? Maybe my girlfriend and I had a fight.”

Zach's eyes widened, and Chante couldn't stop laughing. “I knew you had a beautiful smile,” he said. “A girlfriend, huh?”

“I wish I could've taken a picture of your face,” she said, still giggling.

“Either way, whoever let you travel to South Carolina alone because they pissed you off, I thank them.”

“And I'm sure your wife or girlfriend wouldn't appreciate you flirting with me to make her jealous.” Chante looked over her shoulder. “Where is she anyway?”

“I'm happily divorced.” He pulled out his cell phone and showed Chante the screen saver of his final decree.

“Wow,” she said, then shook her head. “Were you ever happily married?”

Zach seemed to ponder her question. “It doesn't matter. Didn't last. Wish I had known sooner who I'd married. Could've saved more money than switching my insurance to Geico.”

“That I will drink to, finding out those true colors.”

“And what are we drinking?” he asked as he waved for the bartender.

Chante shrugged. “Apple Crown Royal on ice.”

“My kind of woman,” Zach said, then gave her a fist bump. As she looked over the menu, Zach took the seat right next to hers. “So I told you a bit of my story, are you going to give me a little insight into you?”

Chante smiled. “Nope.”

Shaking his head, Zach ordered the drinks and gave her a slow once-over. “You really have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Because now I know that I have a chance.” He winked at her as the bartender set the whiskey in front of them.

She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you don't have a chance.”

Zach raised his right eyebrow. “That's what you think.”

Chante rolled her eyes, then took a sip of her drink.

“Wait,” he said. “We're supposed to toast. Remember? To learning those true colors.” She lifted her glass to his, and Zach leaned in to her. In a swift motion, he brought his mouth down on top of hers. She froze for a second, and then her body seemed to respond Zach's hot tongue. She pressed against him, and her body tingled at his touch. The kiss went deeper than she'd expected, and Chante liked it. Liked it a lot.

Too much.

Pulling back, she pushed against his chest and then tossed her drink in his face. “You jackass,” she said, then rose to her feet. Chante tore out of the bar and decided that she needed to avoid Zachary Harrington for the rest of her trip. Then she could pretend that everything she felt had never happened.

 

 

Zach wiped his face with the towel the bartender handed him. That kiss was worth the drink in his face. Chante was a hell of a woman, with lips like sugar. But she was obviously one of those women who believed in denying herself pleasure. She responded to his kiss just as he knew she would—like she needed it as much as he did—and he wanted to see what else she was in need of.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “This is probably the worst thing I'm going to do.”

“Excuse me?” the bartender asked. “Do you need something else?”

“Actually, I do.”

“Another towel?” She didn't hide her smile, and while there was nothing funny about what had happened, he could understand why women got a kick out of such dramatic outbursts.

Pulling his wallet from his pocket, Zach grabbed a hundred-dollar bill and slid it to the bartender. “I want to do something nice for Chante.”

She looked at the money. “What does that have to do with me?”

“The lady never got a chance to eat, and I want to send her some room service.”

She laughed. “That little bit of money is not worth my job.”

He added another hundred. “I just want to feed her, tell her that I'm sorry, and enjoy the rest of my vacation with a clean conscience.”

She shook her head. “Add another fifty and maybe I'll help.”

He dropped another bill on top of the stack, and the bartender smiled. “Are you sending her shrimp and grits? On second thought, no grits. I don't want to be responsible for Al Green part two.”

This time Zach laughed. “You have jokes, I see. How about a nice seafood quiche or something like that?”

“That's a good choice,” she said as she pocketed the money. “And you plan to deliver the meal to her?”

Zach winked. “That's the plan.”

The bartender typed the order into the computer, then handed Zach a slip of paper. He read it and smiled.
Chante Britt, suite 615
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