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“I’m looking forward to seeing who you’ll come up with to fit the bill.”

Melanie extended her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

He clasped her hand in his. “I’ll give you a call when I get back to New York—in about a week.”

“Fine. Safe travels.”

He released her hand and Vincent walked him to the door, clapping him heartily on the back before returning to the women.

“Should we meet now?” Jessica asked, “Or do we want to wait until tomorrow?” She looked from one face to the other.

“We may as well run through everything now and make our decision,” Melanie said, knowing that her real motivation was that she could rationally convince herself that Claude—and Rafe for that matter—were clients and nothing more. Some other woman’s dream come true. She inhaled deeply and released a breath of resolve. “Let’s do this.”

Claude let his Harley rev down to a soft purr and coasted into his Westchester estate driveway. It wasn’t often that he had a chance to ride, take his bike out and run her full throttle. But when opportunity presented itself, he took it.

There was a lone light coming from the ground-floor window of his two-story Tudor. His housekeeper, Lin, always left a light on when she knew he’d be coming home. The small gesture took some of the edge off of coming home to an empty house. The upside was he generally was only here maybe two weeks out of the month. The rest of the time he was either in Albany or in D.C., where the work and rigorous hours ensured his being alone. There were women. There were always women to take the chill off of lonely nights. But he had yet to find someone that he wanted to be with beyond a few meals at great restaurants and uncomplicated sex. In his world it took a certain kind of woman to understand the demands of his life. So for the most part he kept his relationships few and far between. It was simpler that way.

After changing into his workout clothes, he went downstairs to his home gym in the basement, loaded with the latest exercise equipment that could easily rival the most upscale gym.

He put in at least an hour three days per week. It not only kept him in peak physical condition, but also kept his mind sharp and his hormones at a manageable level. After a good workout and a hot shower, Claude settled down in front of the television and tuned into his favorite news show, MSNBC. Rachel Maddow was interviewing the Health and Human Services Secretary on the health reform bill.

He leaned back and tried to focus on the discussion, but his thoughts kept drifting back to his afternoon in Sag Harbor. Jessica and Veronica didn’t leave a pebble unturned during the interview. They’d all but taken notes about his life starting in the womb. He chuckled at the memory and wondered who they would find for him. What woman would be his perfect match? Someone like Melanie Harte, a distant voice whispered in his head. She would be ideal. Beautiful, intelligent, sexy, well-traveled and powerful in her own right—a devastating combination. He wondered if Melanie had a man in her life, and if so, what was he like? What did he do for a living? And the million dollar question: How did she feel about him?

A sudden clap of thunder startled him out of his mind games and none too soon. His imagination was on the verge of taking him someplace he didn’t need to go. Melanie Harte was not an option.

Claude crossed the room to the window and closed it. He stood in front of the arched panes of glass as the heavens lit up with a burst of brilliant white light, illuminating the sky.

The ringing phone drew his attention from the spectacle of light. He picked up the phone from the end table and recognized the cell number right away.

“Traci…how are you?”

Her laughter filled the phone lines. “Don’t you simply hate technology and what it has done to the element of surprise? I’m fine. Better than fine and I’m in town for a few days. I was hoping we could get together if you’re going to be around.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Marriott in midtown. Lucked out and got a suite.”

He and Traci had met about five, six years earlier when he was at the U.N. conference with the senator. Traci was an attaché and spent most of her time traveling, as well. Never married, career politico with aspirations to run for office. Smart, easy on the eyes and low maintenance.

Claude glanced at the clock. Almost eight. He listened to the ping of the rain bouncing off the windows. An hour drive into the city and then back. What the hell. He could use some uncomplicated company. “Late dinner?”

“Sounds great. I’ll meet you in the bar whenever you get here. The restaurant closes at eleven but…room service is available until two.”

Her offer was clear. If he decided to stay, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and prepared for the rest of his night.

Claude strode into the lobby of the Marriot shortly after nine-thirty. As usual for midtown Manhattan hotels, the lobby, the bar and the restaurant were pulsing with activity. He slipped out of his black linen jacket and draped it over his arm as he wound his way around the bustling bodies and headed in the direction of the bar.

He spotted her before she saw him. Her fiery red hair with sunset highlights was like a beacon, falling in a tumble of silken waves to her bare shoulders. She wore black, as he did. Her snuggly fitted dress hugged every inch of her, at least the few inches that were covered by fabric. She was in an animated conversation with a man who seemed intent on discovering what she may have hidden between her very inviting cleavage that rose above the scoop neck top of her dress.

Claude smiled. Traci was still being her devilish self. He moved into her line of sight and when she spotted him, her emerald-green eyes lit up like fireworks. She put down her glass, patted her conversation companion on the shoulder and walked away, leaving him with his mouth hanging open.

“Claude.” She walked right up to him, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.

He hooked one arm around her narrow waist and pulled her tight against him for a quick trip down memory lane before breaking the kiss. “I would ask how you’re doing, but I can tell you’re doing just fine.”

Traci laughed and linked her fingers with Claude’s. “Girl has to have some fun. I’m starved. How about you?”

He thought of the plate Lin had fixed and left in the oven that he’d never had a chance to touch. “Me, too.”

“Good. Come on.”

“So, catch me up. How is life in the fast lane?” Traci asked as she cut into her steak.

“Well, you know the senator has his hands in as many pots as the law allows. He’s chair of two major committees and sits on a half dozen others. My plate stays full.” He chewed on his forkful of steak, which nearly melted in his mouth.

“Do you think it was the job or the whole black, white thing that kept us from getting together?” Traci asked casually.

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