When Love Calls (4 page)

“Sir, I checked with traffic. There’s an accident en route, we’ll lose seven minutes with the detour. Unfortunately you’ll be three minutes behind schedule, but it’s unavoidable. We need to leave now.”

“That’s fine,” he said, still looking at Adia. “Kent, do me a favor, jot down the name of that gallery across the street.”

“Of course,” he responded without question.

Randolph smiled. He was truly blessed and his life was charmed. But it was also empty, devoid of something, and he was starting to realize what that might be.

The door ajar, he got into the backseat and looked across the street. She was still standing there. Through the dark smoked windows he could observe her without notice. There was something about his Adia that made him smile even now.

Dressed in a navy suit and modest heels, she wasn’t as glamorous as some of the woman he dated. Nicely rounded, she wasn’t model thin. But there was something about her. He wasn’t sure just what. He smiled, remembering the name tag tilted on her lapel.

Chapter 3

S
enator Randolph Kingsley. Alyssa’d seen him on television, read articles about him in newspapers and magazines, but still, she wasn’t prepared to meet the man in person. Wow.

Seemingly larger than life in other venues, he was really just a guy. Maybe more attractive, more interesting, definitely more charming, but still, just a guy. She looked up through the window of the art gallery just as he came down the front steps of the reception across the street. She wasn’t sure, and of course, it was absurd to even think, but she could have sworn that he saw her standing there and smiled her way.

She watched him get in and the car drive away. She had his card, but this was no flirting opportunity. She needed to talk to him about serious business. He had something she wanted and she intended to get it.

“Your friend is completely insane,” Nina said behind her. “I love it.”

“Oliver, yeah, he always was, even as a kid. His parents were overprotective and spoiled him rotten, giving him everything he thought he wanted and then some.”

“Oh, then his family’s got money, huh? Nice.”

“No, they’re just a very loving, giving family.”

“Figures, I’m always attracted to men without money. Must be some kind of pheromone I send out. That’s all I need, to hook up with a starving artist…then again, he is adorable…unless of course, you’re interested,” she said with a very obvious hopeful lilt in her voice.

“Interested? Me? In Oliver?” Alyssa asked. Nina shook her head. “Nina, you hit it on the nose earlier. I did babysit Oliver for two years. He drove me crazy, he was irritating and he tortured me at every opportunity. He was like Dennis the Menace on espresso. No, I’m certainly not interested, he’s still like a little brother to me.”

“Just checking because…”

“Why because?” Alyssa asked.

“Well, he seemed kind of attracted to you.”

“Residual affection, I assure you. He had a schoolboy crush on me once, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, you’re sure, then, ’cause he is kinda cute.”

“Yeah, he was always a cutie and the girls used to go nuts for him, but if I remember correctly he stayed to himself a lot, artistic temperament, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me he’s gay.”

“No,” Alyssa answered quickly, “definitely not. He was always a ladies’ man. He had them lined up outside his front door.”

“A ladies’ man,” Nina said with added interest.

They turned to see him gesture toward a huge painting, detailing some elaborate brushstroke and design. “Nina,” Alyssa began. Nina smiled, but didn’t answer. She just kept staring at him as if to size him up. “Nina,” she repeated.

“I might as well,” Nina said offhandedly as if to herself.

“Might as well what?” Alyssa asked. Nina smiled, but again didn’t answer. “Nina…” she said, shaking her head, “don’t break his heart.”

“Me, never, no, of course not,” she said, glancing back across the room, seeing Oliver show another painting with exaggerated, animated grandeur as only he could do. “So, I thought I’d hang around a bit longer. What about you?”

“Umm, actually I think I’m gonna head back over to the office. I want to get a jump on something I was working on earlier,” Alyssa said.

“Work, this late? It’s after eight o’clock. Even I don’t want to be hanging around that office after dark. We’ve had three break-ins already, you do know that.”

“Yes, and I’ll be fine and I’m not staying too late.”

“Okay, well, take care, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, oh, and please tell Oliver I said goodbye.”

“Sure thing.”

Alyssa walked out and hurried to her car. Not fancy, not stylish and not new, but it served her well, getting her from point A to point B. She got in and drove through the wet streets of D.C. Even at this late hour, traffic was miserable. By the time she pulled up to the corner next to the building, she was anxious to get to work. She locked her car, then pulled up the security gate and unlocked the front door. She went directly to her desk, turned on the computer and started working.

The reception, predictably, was stiff-necked and boring. Every wannabe–political groupie was there. Press coverage had a tendency to bring them out in droves. Political sound bite chatter, hysterical laughter, less-than-genuine smiles and self-righteousness posturing abounded.

Randolph played along, yet was always careful to avoid politically compromising situations. He listened and smiled and commented when asked. He heard the same lame joke four or five times, told slightly differently, but he laughed each time. He answered and deflected the same questions over and over again.

“No, I have no intention of running for higher office at this time. Yes, I’m enjoying myself in D.C. Yes, it’s very different from my home in California. Yes, I actually live on a vineyard. No, I’m no wine connoisseur. Yes, I do hope to wed and have a family someday. No, I don’t have a timetable for my personal life. No, I don’t go on blind dates. Yes, I’m sure your daughter, sister, cousin, niece is very nice, but I make no exceptions.”

Randolph smiled politely each time he answered, but made sure he got his message across. For some reason, he had assumed that questions from the press would be difficult, but they were nothing compared to questions from those interested in his personal life.

Scanning the crowd, he finally spotted a friendly face and gradually made his way across the room. “Hey, buddy, took you long enough to get here. Remind me never to extend an invitation without having a car pick you up.” Trey Evans smiled as the two men shook hands.

Longtime friends and business associates, they recently had found themselves related to each other when Trey’s cousin, J. T. Evans, married Randolph’s sister, Juliet. They also found themselves at the top of Louise Gates’s infamous matchmaking list. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Trey said.

“How’s my portfolio?” Randolph asked.

“Making money,” Trey answered easily.

“That’s what I like to hear. Come on, let’s get a drink. I could use one.”

The two men talked and joked then walked through the crowd toward the bar, occasionally stopping to chat with other guests. Moments later, they sipped club soda as several guests repeatedly came up and held lengthy conversations. Kent, ever vigilant, interrupted Randolph.

“Thanks, Kent,” Randolph said as the other guests took the hint and moved on.

“He’s pretty good. I could use a man like him on my staff.”

“No way, my office would probably collapse without Kent around to hold it together.”

“That bad, huh? Looks like you need to give him a raise. You look pretty tired.”

“Just busy. These twenty-hour workdays are murder.”

“Tell me about it,” Trey agreed. “My client list is insane. Then a few months back, I took as a client one of those million-dollar lottery winners. Big mistake, the man insists on making the most insane investments. He’s killing me. Every two minutes, he’s calling me with another bright idea. Twice, I had to actually stop him from being scammed by con artists. He even sent money to one of those bogus Nigerian fraud scams.”

“What?”

“I kid you not. I have no idea what is wrong with these people.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I finally got him to sign a waiver with a capped allowance. And still, he calls me every day wanting to opt out,” Trey said.

“It’s almost impossible to stop a train wreck. What are you going to do?”

“I finally had to lock him into a high-penalty note.”

“Is it working?”

Trey looked at him and both men shook their heads. “I’ll tell you, Randy, I haven’t taken the time to really enjoy myself in months, and as for a little bit of romance, man, it’s nonexistent.”

“My heart bleeds,” Randolph joked. “Speaking of romance, Mamma Lou is…” he began.

Trey instantly whipped around in full panic mode. “Here? Is she here, where?” he said.

Randolph started laughing. “No, at least I don’t think so, but hey, you never know…she might be.”

“Not funny. That little old woman is a menace. I’d rather take my chances with a thief in the night than do a one-on-one battle with her.” Randolph laughed again. “It’s not funny,” Trey repeated, still glancing around.

“She’s not that bad.”

“Oh, you can say that because you have the whole United States government protecting you from her. Who do I have? Nobody.”

“Come on, lighten up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Anyway, so what about her?”

“She and Colonel Wheeler were at a reception I attended earlier.”

Trey smiled, then laughed out loud. “It’s you, man. It’s your turn.” He held his hand out to shake. “I’m sorry, Randy, but what can I say? Better you than me. It’s been nice knowing you, brotha.”

“You act like she has me marked or something.”

“She does. Obviously you’ve never sat down and talked to Tony, Raymond, Dennis, J.T. or Juwan, not to mention her two sons, Ray and Matthew. And heaven knows how many others we don’t know about. All happily single men until she targeted them. Bull’s-eye, each and every one.”

“But happy, each and every one, right?” Randolph said.

“Oh, yeah, they’re happy. Deliriously, mind-blowingly, ecstatically happy. I’ve never seen my cousin J.T. so happy in my life.”

“So, what’s the problem if she plays matchmaker? She’s obviously pretty good at it.”

Trey looked at him suspiciously. “Wait a minute, is this some kind of matchmaker intervention? Is Mamma Lou gonna pop up around here or something?”

“No, of course not.”

“Just checking ’cause, man, you’re starting to sound like you want to be matched up.”

Randolph tilted his head and looked across the room. A woman walked by with the same style of suit and build as Adia. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, and hurried to catch up with her. Unfortunately it wasn’t her. But the idea that he would seek out a woman who looked like Adia was telling. He walked back over to Trey.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well, what?”

“Did you get her name and phone number?”

“No.”

“Late-night date, wake-up call, anything?”

“No, it was the wrong woman.”

Trey shook his head. “I see. Mamma Lou has you spooked, doesn’t she? You’re actually running after women now.” He shook his head and sucked his teeth.

“Spooked? Me? Whoa, look who’s talking. The mere mention of her name has you getting double whiplash. You nearly broke your neck doing a one-eighty. The last time I saw action like that, there was a possessed kid floating four feet above the bed.”

“Nah, nah, I was just joking, I was just messing with you. You see, Randy, when it comes to Mamma Lou and her matchmaking, I have a theory…” Trey began.

“Oh, no, here we go again,” Randolph said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, having heard his fill of Trey Evans’s many theories.

“No, no, no, it’s very simple…” he began.

Randolph listened, first nodding, then shaking his head, then just plain cracking up laughing. They finally shook hands and agreed to disagree.

“So, what are you doing next weekend?” Trey asked.

“Working, what else?” Randolph said, just as he had every weekend since his first election. “Why, you have a double date set up for us?”

“Nah, but why don’t you sit in on our game?”

“What game?”

“Poker night, once a month or whenever we can get together. It’s usually at Tony’s place in Alexandria, since he’s more centrally located, but next week, I believe, it’ll be at J.T.’s new place in McLean. That is, if it’s finished being remodeled. If not, then it’s at my place.”

“Sounds like a bet. Count me in,” Randolph said.

They shook hands, then pounded fists. “All right, you go back to doing your senatorial thing and I’ll be over here doing mine,” Trey said, seeing an attractive woman pass by and smile at him. “Later.”

Randolph smiled and shook his head. Trey was funny and smart and the best money manager in the business, but when it came to woman, he was a total scoundrel and completely clueless. Then he chuckled to himself as the reality of the statement settled in. When it came to women, every man was completely clueless.

Alyssa yawned. She squinted at the clock on her desk, then glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten o’clock. She’d been at it far longer than she intended, but she was impressed by the result. All she had to do now was print it out.

The office and storefront on a small street in a questionable neighborhood was quiet late at night. Businesses and mostly everything was closed at this time, and she kind of liked it that way. No distractions except those rolling around in her mind.

Ten minutes later, after changing the empty ink cartridge and adding more paper to the bin, she stood at the office printer and pressed the green button. Old, clumsy and loud, the printer begrudgingly spat out her precious document’s twenty-seven papers. Then, since the printer didn’t have the capacity, she collated her revised proposal by hand.

That’s when she first heard the sound. The front door opened and closed and a disembodied voice called out. Her mind dashed in several directions. She looked toward the only other exit on the first floor, but it was way across the open space and she would never get to it without being seen.