I Heard A Rumor (5 page)

“Awkward,” Chante said once the waitress was out of earshot. “She should've known we weren't married. We're happy and having a good time.”

“You sure you haven't been married before?”

“My close encounter of the matrimony kind was more than enough to open my eyes to the trauma I avoided. But I have to say, I've seen a happy marriage. My best friend is married and having the time of her life.”

“And you didn't get the itch like most women do?”

She rolled her eyes and poured a bit of cream in her coffee. “I'm not like most women.”

“I see that. I like that.”

She spooned sugar into her mug, then took a sip. “This is good.”

“You like coffee a lot, huh?”

“It's something I picked up over the last year or so. My friend Liza is turning me into a real coffee snob. Ethiopian beans are the best.”

“That's because you haven't had Kona beans fresh from Hawaii. I have some property there, a little industrial tract of land. Whenever I visit, I have coffee with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And the pineapples. You know what they say about pineapples, right?”

“No, I don't,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“They don't get any better than in Hawaii.”

“I'm sure that's exactly what you meant,” she quipped. Still smiling, Chante watched Zach devour his breakfast. As his lips closed around the fork, she couldn't help but relive both earth-shattering kisses he'd treated her to.
Those lips should come with a warning label,
she thought.

“Do I have something on my chin?” he asked as he reached for his coffee cup.

“No. I'm just wondering how you eat so fast without burning yourself.”

“One thing you don't get in Manhattan is real grits. I think I've eaten more grits since I've been in Charleston than I have in twenty years.”

Chante handed him a napkin. “There's more to Charleston than grits.”

“Good. Sounds like you just volunteered to show me everything that Charleston has to offer,” he said as he wiped his mouth. “Not just your favorite place.”

Chante's smile turned into a smirk. “And you're going to show me what pineapples can do?”

Zach was happy he had swallowed his food, because Chante's last comment would've made him choke. “Oh, really?”

“Mangoes too,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“I see I had you pegged all wrong.”

She sipped her coffee, and when she put her cup down and licked her bottom lip, he was hard. Chante knew what she was doing, and she was doing it well.

“And how had you pegged me?” she asked after another sip.

“Will anything I say be held against me?”

“I'm a lawyer, not a cop.”

“Beautiful but uptight.”

“And now?” she asked as she softly drummed her fingers against her mug.

Zach smiled and leaned forward. “I'm intrigued. You have layers, and I want to peel them back until I reach the core.”

The look on her face sent a jolt to his groin. Something about that mix of minx and innocence turned him on like a light switch. Who was Chante Britt, and why hadn't some southern gent snapped her up? That was layer one. He'd have to peel that back immediately. Glancing at her left ring finger, he noticed there wasn't the telltale tan line. That was a plus. But he didn't get the cheating vibe from her, no matter how mad her man may have made her.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “are we ready to go?”

Zach nodded and waved for the blushing waitress to bring them their check. After paying the bill, he turned to Chante. “She probably thinks we're having an affair.”

“I bet most of the people in here are.” Chante shook her head. “I should really think about becoming a divorce lawyer. Half the work and more money.”

“No, you shouldn't. By the time my divorce was final, I hated my lawyer as much as I hated hers.”

“Hate is such a strong word.”

Zach shrugged. “In this case it fits.”

“But how could anyone hate anyone as lovable as me?” She winked as they rose from their seats. Zach crossed over to her and took her hand in his.

“You're something else, counselor.”

“Wouldn't you like to find out.”

Zach kissed her hand. “And a mind reader to boot. I like you. You can handle my next divorce.”

“Wow, planning a divorce, and you haven't even met the next Mrs. Harrington.”

He gave her a slow once-over. “Never say never. I could be holding her hand right now.”

“Then you'd really hate your divorce lawyer.” Chante's throaty laugh was like a sensual samba.

“What are you driving?” he asked when they entered the lobby.

“Huh?”

“What kind of car are you driving?”

“A Jaguar F-Type, why?”

Zach let out a low whistle. “Please tell me it's a convertible.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“All right,” he said as he pulled out the keys to his car, “we'll take mine. It is a convertible.”

“What kind?”

“Nothing as fancy as yours. The seventeen-year-old in me rented a Mustang GT.”

Chante grabbed the keys. “I love a Mustang, and since I know where we're going, I'm driving.”

“Bossy is another layer, I see,” he quipped.

They headed for the parking lot and got into the blue convertible GT. “This looks like a lot of fun,” she said as she started the car.

“There's a lot of power under that hood. Can you handle it?”

She sucked her teeth. “I can handle anything.” Starting the car, she tore out of the parking lot, making the tires squeal, and Zach wondered if he would be able to handle the ride with Chante.

They drove into Folly Beach and headed for the historic Folly Beach Pier. “This is beautiful,” he said as they got out of the car.

“And strong,” she said. “My grandmother and I used to come here and fish over there.” She pointed to a corner of the 1,045-foot-long pier.

Zach gave her a curious glance. “You fished with your grandmother?”

“Yes. Much to my mother's chagrin. I'd come home covered in fish scales and dirt underneath my nails, and she'd nearly have a heart attack. I think Elsie Mae did it just to get a rise out of my mother.” They walked among the tourists until they found a spot where they could look out on the ocean.

“Must have been nice growing up around all this beauty.”

She shrugged. “You take it for granted until you move away from it.” Chante leaned against the wooden railing and inhaled the salty ocean air. Zach leaned against her, pressing his nose into her hair. Damn, she smelled good. Sweet like a Carolina rose. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist. He expected her to push him away, but she fell into his embrace. Silence enveloped them as they watched the ocean waves.

Chante's thoughts troubled her, made her think of past mistakes—namely Robert. But something about Zach's touch put her mind at ease while making her body tremble with anticipation. It occurred to her, as they stood in the sun, that in the time they'd spent talking over breakfast and the walk up the pier, he knew more about her than Robert ever did. Not once during their courtship had she thought about bringing him to Charleston or telling him about Elsie Mae. Maybe if she had introduced Robert to Elsie Mae, things wouldn't have gone straight to hell. Her grandmother probably would've sniffed out that self-serving son of a bitch the moment she laid eyes on him.

Chante turned around and lost herself in Zach's brown eyes. What would her grandmother make of him?

“What?” he asked.

“I want to show you something special,” she said.

“I'm already looking at it,” he replied with a smile.

Chante rolled her eyes. “Are you always like this? I mean, if I didn't want to drive your car, I'd push you over the edge for being so damned corny.”

“You sure know how to hurt a brother,” he said, then feigned a pout. “This is your show; whatever you want me to see, I'm down for it.”

“Good,” she said, still basking in his touch. Zach felt his erection grow as she licked her lips. He wanted this woman more than he should have since he'd told himself he was taking a break from the opposite sex. But her lips drew him in like a magnet to metal. Kissing her softly, he slipped his tongue between her pillow-soft lips and reveled in the sweetness of her mouth. Chante moaned as his hands traveled down her back, resting right above her ample behind. She broke the kiss and looked up at him.

“We've got to stop doing this,” she said.

“Why do you like to deny yourself pleasure?”

“Let's go.”

“Answer the question.”

“Ever think that people get into bad situations because they move too fast?”

“Maybe people miss out on a good thing because they don't live in the moment. We have a moment, Chante. Right here and right now. We don't have to look five or six years down the road. You want me and I want you.”

She shivered, unable to come up with a rebuttal to him. Did she want him? Yes. Could she live in the moment? She didn't know. It wasn't her style. She was a planner; she did weigh her options and look toward the future.

“Chante?” Zach asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Can we have this moment, no matter how long it's going to last?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes. We can.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. Slow. Deep. Passionate. She pressed her soft body against his hard one, losing herself in his kiss. Giving in to the pleasure of his tongue and his touch.

This man was kissing her senseless, and Chante liked it. Needed it. Wanted it. Breaking the kiss, his lips curved into a seductive smile. “So what's this special thing that you wanted to show me?” he asked.

“Umm,” Chante began as clouds of desire cleared her brain. “My grandmother's legacy. She has a shop on Folly Beach that is a must-see tourist spot.”

“Sounds like you're pretty well connected in this city. Why did you ever leave?”

Shrugging as they started walking down the pier, she replied, “Wanted to blaze my own path, and I couldn't do it in the shadow of my family's history.”

What she didn't say was she wanted to be far away from her mother's judgment. Chante was sure that had she come up with a cure for cancer without being married, Allison would've found fault with it.

“Interesting. I knew that I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps. And leaving New York wasn't an option for me in my younger days. I wanted to be bigger than Trump. Then I realized I had the best role model ever because Trump is an idiot.”

Chante laughed. “That is the truth. My mother and grandmother have different views on legacies. Figured it was best to make my own.”

“Miss Independent. Bet you started walking when you were six months old,” he said as they reached the car.

“Funny. I was about eight months old, thank you very much.”

Giving her a slow once-over, he was thankful she had those hips and that round booty. He was thankful for those lips and the skillful way she used them.

“Let's go,” he said, feeling the burgeoning of his growing erection against his zipper.

Chante locked eyes with him, seeing something that made her thighs quiver.

“Okay,” she said, then did her imitation of Bo Duke and hopped in the car without opening the door. Zach's knees nearly buckled as he laughed.

“Did you just . . . ?”

“There is a seventeen-year-old in me who's having so much fun right now. Get in the car so we can go!”

Opening the door, he got into the car and buckled up. “Giddy up!” Chante took off like a bolt of lightning. Zach gripped the side of the door.

“Your seventeen-year-old is a little out of control,” he quipped.

Chante eased off the gas. “Yeah, it is tourist season, and the last thing I need is a speeding ticket. My mother would call me a criminal.”

“I get the feeling that you two aren't that close,” he said. “I thought that was a southern thing.”

“You haven't mentioned your mother,” she said, not wanting to get into her relationship with her mother.

Zach nodded. “My mother passed away when my sister and I were young. I think the reason Dad and I were so close is because we felt we had to team up and protect Zoe.”

“And how did she feel about that?”

Zach laughed. “My sister is a rebel, so she was none too pleased. I think that's why she became a private investigator—so she can take all the risks we tried to protect her from.”

“She's older or younger?”

“Younger by about five minutes. Zoe's my twin.”

“Wow,” she said. “I wish I had a sibling, but to have a twin, that must be exciting.”

“Eh, when she's not in one of her moods. But I love my sister, and I'm so proud of her. She's saved my ass more than once or twice. I still worry about her, though.”

“Because she's a woman? I don't know why men think women aren't capable of handling ourselves. And if your sister is a PI, she's probably kick-ass and . . .”

“Whoa, whoa. I don't know where that came from, but I don't doubt that a woman can do anything. At the end of the day, that's my sister.”

“Sorry, it's just a bit of the feminist in me.”

“There's a lot of things inside you,” he said, while thinking,
I want to be inside of you myself.

“Here it is,” she said as she pulled up in front of Elsie's Gifts and Goodies.

“Wow. This was actually one of the places the concierge recommended I visit,” he said as Chante put the car in
PARK
.

“See what I mean about shadows,” Chante said when they exited the car, looking up at the white wooden storefront and the black script across the top of the fascia.

“Will your grandmother be here?” he asked as they walked up to the door and he opened it for her.

“No, she's on a cruise around the world and . . .”

“Chante Elaine?”

“Mother,” Chante said, “what are you doing—hi.”

Allison Britt offered her daughter a plastic smile as she crossed over to her as if she were the queen of Charleston. She gave her daughter a slow once-over, then smiled. “So you breeze into town and can't even say hello to your own mother? Is that how they treat their mothers in North Carolina?”

Chante blinked and swallowed the urge to ask her mother when was the last time she'd spoken to her own mom. “I was going to call you and dad after I got settled in. But when I arrived and saw the state of Grammy's . . .”

“Your grandmother is trying to wipe out all traces of my father's history. She thinks this shop allows her to . . .” Allison glanced at Zach. “Oh, Chante, how rude of you. Who is your companion?”

Zach could feel the tension in the air like humidity. He could see why Chante and her mother weren't close. How were they even related?

“Zach Harrington,” he said, extending his hand to Allison.

She smiled and gave him a limp handshake. “So how are you and my daughter acquainted?”

“Mother,” Chante said.

“Are you dating, or is it time to finally start planning a wedding?”

Chante slammed her hand against her forehead. “We actually just met, and according to you, there's a certain time for a courtship, right?”

“Your sarcasm is not welcome,” Allison said in clipped tone. “At your age, we'll just have to take what we can get.”