I Heard A Rumor (24 page)

“Zach,” she gasped as his tongue lashed her diamond-hard nipple. “Oh, Zach. I need you inside me.”

“And you're going to have me. But you just taste so good,” he said, then took her breast back into his mouth as she ground against him. Pulling back, he reached for a condom from the nightstand. Chante stroked his chest with her fingertips as he slid the sheath in place. He pulled her against his chest, and their lips met. Chante kissed him deeply, sucking his tongue as if it was a piece of delicious chocolate. Holding her closely, he flipped her over so that she was on her back. As they broke off their kiss, Zach dove between her legs, seeking her sweet wetness, feeling as if he'd gone straight to heaven as her warmth enveloped him. He licked and sucked her throbbing pearl until she screamed his name as she exploded.

“Zach, Zach,” she cried, an orgasm washing over her. Peeling his mouth away from her, he plunged inside her. They fell into a sensual rhythm, matching each other thrust for thrust. Zach wrapped her thighs around him, and they rolled over so that she was on top.

“Chante, Chante, Chante,” he moaned like a prayer as she rode him fast then slow, then faster and then slower. She leaned forward and nibbled on his earlobe, and Zach lost it. He climaxed and gripped her hips tightly as he spent himself. She fell into his embrace, and they drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Chante woke up with a smile on her face, until she looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly nine a.m. As much as she wanted to stay in Zach's arms, she had a lot of work to do. She had to find Amanda and stop her from settling her case. Then she needed to clear her name. Liza had planned to help her do a media tour, including another appearance on
Charlotte Today.
She shivered, thinking about how she'd looked the last time she'd been on that show . . .

 

 

“Good morning,” Zach said as he stroked her back.

“Morning.”

“What's wrong?”

She turned around and faced him. “Reality bites,” Chante said. “I have a lot to do today, and I don't want to do any of it.”

“I'd say don't do it, but I know how important it must be for you to get your reputation cleaned up. How can I help?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Just hold me for a second.”

And a second was about all the time they had before Chante's phone began ringing. Sighing, she broke her embrace with Zach and picked up the phone.

“This is Chante Britt,” she said when she answered.

“Chante, where in the hell are you?” Liza asked.

“Hello, Liza, I was just thinking about you.”

“You need to be thinking about the press conference that we have in thirty minutes. Let me guess. You're with Zach?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Kiss that man good-bye and get down here. And by the way, the lead story this morning is Natalie's arrest on blackmail charges.”

She looked over at Zach and winked at him. “That's good news, right?”

“Actually, it is. Makes my job a whole lot easier,” Liza said.

“All right, I'll see you in a little bit.” Chante hung up the phone and turned to Zach. “Duty calls.”

“Go knock 'em dead,” he said. “And when you finish righting this ship, I have a surprise for you.”

Chante's eyes sparkled. “What is it?”

“Keyword, babe:
surprise.
”

“I'm getting sick of surprises,” she said as she rose from the bed. Zach followed her lead.

“This is one you're going enjoy, trust me,” he said with a wink.

She put her coat on and tied the scarf around her head, but she wanted nothing more than to hop back into bed with Zach. Instead, she went to the door. “Wish me luck,” she said.

He pulled her into his arms. “You don't need luck,” he said. “You have truth and justice on your side.”

“Now I'm Superwoman?”

He nodded. “But you always have been.” He kissed her, slipping his hand underneath her coat and cupping her bottom. Moaning, Chante pushed him back.

“If I don't walk away right now, I'm not going to make it to my press conference.”

“See you later, darling,” he said as he opened the door. As Chante headed for her car, she was glad that she had clothes in her office and a bathroom where she could take a quick shower.

As she arrived at her office, Chante was a bit pissed off. Yesterday, when there was a scandal brewing, the media was camped out in the parking lot; now there wasn't a blogger with an iPhone in sight. Then again, that may have been a good thing since she wasn't dressed appropriately at all.

“It's about time!” Liza said when Chante walked in the door. “And what do you have on?”

“A coat,” Chante said, then headed for the bathroom.

“I'm going to have to try that one day,” Liza said. “But you need to hurry up and look like Chante Britt, attorney-at-law. And Teresa's on her way with Amanda.”

“Thank God,” Chante said as she closed the door. Five minutes later, Chante stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a gray and teal pantsuit and a white blouse with a ruffled collar.

“Classic and lovely,” Liza said. “Do you have red lipstick?”

“No,” Chante said as she pulled out a bronze-toned lip gloss. Liza crossed over to her friend and shook her head.

“You're about to make a bold statement. You need bold lips.” She handed Chante a tube of red lipstick. “These days, red is more about confidence than sex.”

“Right,” Chante said as she looked at the bright tube Liza held out to her. “I don't know about this color. Maybe it's a little too much?”

“This from the woman who was driving around town in a pink trench coat and no clothes underneath it? Put the lipstick on, and make sure you don't get any on your teeth. Trust me on this.”

“Only because it's you,” Chante said as she took the lipstick from Liza's hand. After smoothing it on her lips, she looked in the mirror and had to admit, the red lips gave her added confidence. “I hate it when you're right.”

“Then you must always be hating,” Liza joked.

“I know you're not under the delusion that you're always right.”

Liza raised her right eyebrow. “Whatever.”

“Knock, knock,” a familiar male voice said from the doorway. Chante watched Liza light up like a Christmas tree when Senator Jackson Franklin walked into the room.

“Hi, Jackson,” Chante said as Liza crossed over to her husband and hugged him.

“Babe, what are you doing here?” Liza asked.

“I missed my wife this morning, and I needed to make sure you and Chante were all right.”

Liza kissed him. Chante turned her head and silently wondered if she and Zach would have a future like this. Of course, Raleigh was a lot closer to Charlotte than New York. And Liza's business was a lot more mobile than hers.
Stop it,
Chante thought.
You and Zach deserve to be happy, and you will have that happiness, somehow.

“Guys,” Chante said, “this isn't Liza's office anymore.”

The amorous couple broke their kiss and started laughing. “Sorry about that,” Jackson said. “Had a flashback.”

“Stop it,” Liza said as she swatted his hand away. “Listen, we're about to have a press conference, and I'm sure you don't want to get caught up in all of this.”

“No, I want to get caught up in my wife. And I'm sure Teresa is going to be here, and I need to talk to her.”

“Oh, all right.”

Jackson looked at Chante and smiled. “Besides, I'm here to support our sister.”

“You married a prince, Liza,” Chante said as she fluffed her curls.

A few moments later, members of the media began filing into the office. A couple of reporters tried to question Jackson being present in Chante's office, but Liza redirected them to the press release she'd handed out.

“We're here for a statement from Ms. Britt,” Liza said.

There were a couple more rumbles about why Liza and Jackson were there, but when Chante stood in front of the reporters, everyone quieted down.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Chante began, “thank you for being here. I have a brief statement, and then I'll answer a few questions. Over the last few days, I've been drawn into a situation that has put my business in jeopardy. Natalie Harrington has been arrested for a blackmail plot that involved me and her ex-husband, Zachary Harrington. Before Natalie came to my office, I only knew of her alleged involvement with a call-girl ring in New York. When I opened this law firm, my goal was and is to help women who have been wronged by systems that are supposed to protect them. Natalie isn't and has never been my client. What she was accused of doing was reprehensible, and she isn't the kind of client I'd represent. The women who were allegedly harmed by her crimes, I'd happily represent.

“People continue to focus on my past. I'm not perfect, and I've made mistakes, I've dealt with men who have brought me into their controversial story lines. Today I'm setting the record straight. I'm Chante Britt, and I won't be defined by what other people think about me. I want to empower women and let them know that it doesn't matter what other people think about them. What does matter is what they think about themselves. There is power in confidence, and so many women lack that confidence because society judges us differently. If a woman is successful, she's called derogatory names, while a man on that same level is lauded. So many women are judged by the mistakes their significant other makes, and some women can't recover from that. That's why I'm here, because I did recover from the mistakes made by the man I thought I was going to marry. And it wasn't easy. He also used our former relationship again when he wanted to further his career. What happened to me happens to a lot of women, and that's not fair. Now I'll open the floor to questions.”

A reporter from the CBS station raised her hand. “Ms. Britt, what is the nature of your relationship with Zachary Harrington?”

“Not that it matters,” Chante began, “but we have a personal relationship. That is why I never would have been able to take Natalie's case, and she knew that.”

“So,” a reporter from the ABC station started, “you are no longer affiliated with Myrick, Lawson and Walker?”

“No, I'm not,” she said.

“Why did you leave the firm?” another reporter asked.

“I wanted to start my own firm with a different philosophy.”

Liza stood up and smiled at the reporters. “Thank you for being here, but that's all we have time for.” A few of the other reporters blurted out questions about Robert and how the end of their relationship had sparked her change. Liza ushered Chante out and closed the door behind them.

“Whew,” Chante said.

“You handled that really well,” Jackson said. “Some of those questions were out of line, if you ask me.”

“I agree,” she said, then looked at Liza. “But I have a great coach.”

“Well, not to toot my own horn, but this is what I'm best at,” she said. Jackson stroked her hip.

“You're good at this, but you're best at . . .”

“Hey, I'm in the room,” Chante quipped.

Jackson laughed. “I was going to say she's best at taking care of the people she loves.”

Liza kissed Jackson's cheek. “We'd better get over to the
Charlotte Today
studio.”

Just as they were about to leave, Teresa and Amanda walked into the office. “Looks like the gang is all here,” Teresa said with a smile as she crossed over and hugged Jackson. “Why aren't you in Raleigh?”

“My wife disappeared on me, and I needed to find her and check on my district.”

“Umm, huh,” Teresa said. “Let's go have coffee and let Amanda and Chante talk.”

When Chante and Amanda were alone, she took a deep breath and offered Amanda a seat.

“I'm only here because Teresa asked me to come and hear you out. I still think settling will end this nightmare.”

“Amanda,” Chante said, “you shouldn't settle because you have a legitimate chance to win your claim. It isn't just about the money; it's about the principle. You agreed with me on that.”

“But Taiwon said you have too much baggage to give my case the attention that it needs and settling would at least give me enough capital to start over someplace else.”

“Why should you have to move?” Chante asked. “This is your city. You are a Charlotte socialite. Why would you leave?”

“Because I want people to look at me and see Amanda, not Harlan's ex. I don't want people to judge me for the rest of my life.”

“So you're going to run?”

Amanda shook her head. “It's not running, it's . . .”

“Running. And you're better than that. I'm better than that. I thought about it. I could've gone back to Charleston and pretended as if none of that embarrassment with Robert ever happened. But I didn't, and I'm not going to let you do it either.”

“You do have a point, but I don't know if I want the attention that will go along with a trial and . . .”

“This doesn't sound like you. This sounds like a man who wants to take his percentage of your settlement and move on.”

Amanda tilted her head to the side and looked at Chante. “And what do you get out of this? Nobody does anything out of the kindness of their heart anymore.”

“Winning this case would put my firm on the map, there is no doubt about that. But I also took this case because I've been in your shoes. I'm still in them.”

Amanda nodded. “You do have a thing for scandalous men.” She laughed, and Chante knew they were getting somewhere.

“Or maybe they have a thing for me.“

“I saw the picture of you and Zachary Harrington. I'd lose my mind over him too,” she said. “But why does it seem as if whenever a woman falls in love, she suffers? That guy is from New York and your roots are here. How are y'all going to have a future?”

Chante offered her a tense smile. “If it's meant to be, then it will happen. But this is about you. Do you want to fight, or do you want to settle?”

“Chante, I want to settle. But this is my number, and I want a formal apology,” she said as she slid her a folder. Chante opened the folder, and a smile spread across her face.

“That's a great number. It covers everything that you lost and more.”

“I'm not settling for anything less. Taiwon didn't understand that,” Amanda said. “But the most important thing for me is to get my apology.”

Chante nodded, then looked down at her watch. There was no way she was going to make it to the
Charlotte Today
studio, and she was fine with that. She'd given the media all they were going to get today. It was time to work.

 

 

Zach headed to the airport and dropped off his rental car. He exchanged the sedan for a convertible Mustang. Part one of the surprise was taken care of.

The next thing he needed to do was to confirm the reservation at the Charleston Harbor Bed and Breakfast. He'd gotten a suite on the top floor where they would have a lot of privacy. The picture they'd e-mailed him showed a wraparound balcony with a privacy screen. He couldn't wait to make love to Chante on that balcony at sunset and sunrise.

After getting the car, he typed “Hometown Delights” into the GPS so that he could get some food. He'd heard so much about the restaurant, from the infamous stories about a couple of violent incidents there to the mouth-watering menu created by famed chef Devon Harris. He knew he couldn't leave Charlotte without trying the restaurant.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he called Chante to see how her day had gone. But her phone when straight to voice mail. He couldn't help but wonder if everything had worked out in her favor.

Walking into the restaurant, he wasn't surprised to see how busy it was. He hoped that meant the food was just that good.

“Welcome to Hometown Delights,” the hostess said. “Will this be dine in or carry out?”

“Carry out,” Zach said.

“No problem. You can place your order at the bar,” she said, then pointed him in that direction. Heading to the bar, Zach was taken with the ambience of the restaurant. Natural light shone over the lunch patrons, but he could tell that at night the lanterns in the middle of the tables would cast a deep glow and give the room a romantic tone. The bar area was wide and spacious, giving people who were on a date a chance to lean in close to each other and someone drowning his or her sorrows a chance to be alone.

“Welcome to Hometown Delights,” a tall woman with shoulder-length auburn hair said. She had a smile that would light up the darkest room. She was fine but didn't hold a candle to Chante. “What can I get for you?”

“I heard you guys have the best chocolate cake in the city.”

“The state, actually,” she said with a smile.

“I need to get one of those . . . and,” he said as he looked down at the menu, “two orders of the New Orleans Chicken, a side of sweet potato fries, and a bottle of your best merlot.”

“That sounds good. Taking a road trip?” She nodded toward the picnic basket he'd set on the edge of the bar.

“Heading to Charleston, but I couldn't leave without trying this place,” he said.

“Well, as one of the owners of
this place,
I have to say thank you, and you made some great choices for road-traveling food,” she said, then extended her hand to him. “Serena Billups.”

“Nice to meet you, Serena. Zachary Harrington.”

“I've heard of you,” she said. “Nice to see you here.”

He reached into his wallet and handed her his business card. “If you ever plan to expand in New York, let me know.”

“And face the wrath of Solomon Crawford? I don't think so. If we expand into New York, it would probably be as a hotel restaurant. You know his wife is another one of the owners here.”

“Hometown Delights is bigger than that,” he said. “Think about it.”

“I'll talk to my partners. Let me put your order in,” she said as she sauntered away.

Zach pulled out his phone and dialed Chante again. Voice mail. “What in the hell is going on,” he muttered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

 

 

Chante sat across from Jacob Dillinger, the assistant state attorney general, with her poker face intact. “This is not acceptable,” she said. “Mrs. Chavis was the primary moneymaker in the home, and for the last three years, the state of North Carolina held her money hostage. No interest was accrued on the money, and we know that if this were the other way around, she'd be hit with all kinds of penalties. So you're going to tell me that she doesn't deserve something extra?”

“You want the taxpayers of this state to suffer because you think your client deserves more?” he asked.

Chante crossed her legs. “Jacob, my client is a taxpayer, and you didn't mind making her suffer.”

“I don't know about the public apology.”

Chante rose to her feet. “Then I guess we will see you in court.”

“Wait. No one wants a drawn-out legal case, but . . .”

“All you need to do is write an apology and release it to the media, and pay my client what you owe her with interest. But all of this is moot if you don't acknowledge that she was wronged by the system.”

“We were doing our . . .”

Chante placed her hands on Jacob's desk. “Amanda Chavis wasn't the judge in any of those cases. She's never been on the bench, and she never benefited from the money that Harlan received and hid in offshore accounts. You discovered that in the investigation but still froze assets that Amanda had brought into the marriage. Assets that she needed to run a business that had nothing to do with the legal system and that had been established before she even knew who the hell Harlan Chavis was. You owe her money and an apology. We're not letting this go without both.” Chante leaned back in her chair and shot Jacob a cold look.

“Fine,” he said. “I just need to get my boss's approval, and we'll have this wrapped up by the end of the day.”

“Why don't you call your boss now? I think Amanda has waited long enough for the state to acknowledge its wrongdoing.”

“Give me a minute.” As Jacob walked out of the office, Amanda turned to Chante.

“You're amazing,” she said.

“I knew this was important to you, and I told you I was going to get results.”

“So, if the state won't apologize, should I refuse the money?”

“We're taking the money, but I know you're going to get that apology because they are as wrong as two left shoes, and I'm sure they don't want the media coverage that would come from the trial or the campaign that Liza would create on social media.”

Amanda was about to respond when Jacob walked back into the office. “Ms. Britt, Mrs. Chavis, we have a deal.”

“When will the paperwork get here?” Chante asked.

“Two hours tops,” Jacob said.

Chante smiled and crossed over to him with her hand extended. Jacob gave her a limp handshake, which led her to believe that his boss wasn't happy about the way things had gone. Oh well.