Everything is You
He’s her everything—she just doesn’t know it yet
Jacqueline Lawson is a maverick focusing on her career abroad—a world away from the conservative Lawson dynasty. But when the award-winning photojournalist returns home to Baton Rouge after a high-stakes assignment, she’s hiding a secret—one she’s determined to keep.
Raymond Jordan has sworn to uncover all of Jacqueline’s secrets, and her on-again, off-again lover is the only man who has ever gotten under her skin. RJ didn’t follow Jacqueline back to the United States just to let her get away again. The freelance photographer has been by her side in the most dangerous places, and now he wants them to be a permanent team. The passion’s as hot as ever between them. But love means putting yourself in the line of fire. Is Jacqueline ready to risk her heart?
Jacqueline pushed up from the table
and came around to Raymond’s side.
She put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re going to have a wonderful time, do all those things that families do when they get together and then you’ll fly back.”
Raymond turned on the stool and pulled her between his thighs. He looked up at her and caressed the side of her face with his finger. She lowered herself onto his lap. He tilted her chin upward and kissed her softly.
Jacqueline lightly draped her wrists on either side of his neck and looked into his eyes, seeing the history of their journey there, a journey that she was going to have to end. Her insides tightened.
When had their relationship gone from professional to personal? For several years it had been only business between them. It was the way it should have stayed but she’d made the mistake of letting Raymond slip past her defenses.
DONNA HILL
began writing novels in 1990. Since then she has had more than forty titles published, including full-length novels and novellas. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television. She has won numerous awards for her body of work. She is also the editor of five novels, two of which were nominated for awards. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. She was the first recipient of an RT Book Reviews Trailblazer Award, won an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and currently teaches writing at the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center.
Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at www.donnahill.com.
Everything
is You
Donna
Hill
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Dear Reader
Thank you for selecting Everything Is You. If you are new to the series, welcome to the intriguing world of the Lawsons of Louisiana! You are in for a treat. This time, I want to introduce you to Jacqueline Lawson, the younger sister of patriarch Sr. Senator Branford Lawson. Jacqueline has been estranged from her family for years, for a variety of reasons. She has not spoken with her brother for nearly a decade. But she’s made a life for herself as an award-winning, international photojournalist. Enter Raymond Jordan, a celebrated journalist in his own right. The two travel the world together. Raymond wants more but Jacqueline knows that she can never commit and the only person who may be able to change that is her brother Branford.
Everything Is You is a tribute to a man whose love for a woman will stop at nothing and who will move mountains to have her. It is about an independent woman who finds that she does need something and someone more. It is about a powerful family, rife with drama, secrets, sexy men and dynamic women. Welcome!
Be sure to follow the entire series: Spend My Life with You, Secret Attraction, Sultry Nights and now Everything Is You. You will also find many of the Lawson clan in my new series Sag Harbor Village, beginning with Touch Me Now.
Until next time,
Donna
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Chapter 1
A yellow cab turned onto South Figueroa and eased to a stop in front of The Beacon Hill Towers. Jacqueline Lawson stepped out into the late, balmy Los Angeles afternoon. The red-vested doorman pulled open the glass-and-chrome door of the condominium as she approached.
“Afternoon, Ms. Lawson.”
Jacqueline smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes that remained hidden behind wide, dark shades. Her maple-brown skin glistened in the June sun. “Hi, Bobby. Hot out here today.” She lifted the weight of her ponytail from her neck to catch some air.
“Yes, ma’am. They say thunderstorms.”
“How’s your wife and daughter?” she asked, stepping into the cool embrace of the lobby.
“They’re well. Thanks. There’s a package for you at the front desk.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” She adjusted her tote bag over her shoulder. Her teal-colored sling-back heels tapped out a slow but steady rhythm against the terra cotta floor. She approached the concierge desk. “Hi, Mike. Bobby said I have a package.”
“Sure do. Would you like me to send it up? It’s kind of heavy.”
“Yes, please. Send it up later. Thanks.” She started off toward the elevator and the room swayed. She slowed her step and drew in a steadying breath. The warning words of her doctor echoed in her head. Concentrating, she walked to the bank of elevators. Exhaustion rode through her in waves. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment and willed herself to remain upright.
The elevator dinged and the polished stainless steel doors silently slid open. A young, very tanned couple exited, gave brief nods and moved past her.
Jacqueline stepped inside, thankful to be alone as the doors closed behind her. She leaned against the back wall for support. She was running out of time and her options were limited.
The doors slid open on the eighteenth floor and Jacqueline pushed herself forward down the hallway that was decorated with fresh flowers on antique tabletops and black-and-white art on the walls. Her two-bedroom apartment was at the end of the hall that she shared with one other tenant.
Once inside she adjusted the cooling system and walked into her bedroom that opened onto a panoramic view of Downtown Los Angeles.
Item by item she stripped out of her clothes and tossed them into a hamper in the bathroom. She took her silk robe from a hook on the back of the door and slid it on, tying the belt loosely around her waist.
She needed to lie down. The simple trip to the doctor’s office had drained her more than she’d anticipated. She stretched out on the bed and then turned onto her side curling into a half fetal position.
That’s the way Raymond found her when he came in an hour later, carrying the box that had been delivered earlier.
He placed the box in the corner near the chaise lounge and quietly approached. He leaned down and placed a feathery light kiss on her forehead. She stirred ever so slightly, murmuring something that he could not make out. He eased out of the room and shut the bedroom door halfway, deciding to surprise her with an early dinner. He took a quick shower, changed into his favorite weatherworn navy blue sweatpants and padded barefoot into the living space that opened onto the kitchen. He crossed the shining hardwood floor to the entertainment unit. The gleam of Jacqueline’s Associated Press Medal for photojournalism sat in its place of honor encased in glass. Every time he looked at it a feeling of pride puffed his chest, reminding him of what an incredible woman she was and the fearlessness that it took for her to earn it. He turned on the stereo to his favorite R&B station.
Since their return from their last assignment in the rain forests of the Amazon, Jacqueline had been quiet and withdrawn. Initially, he thought she was worn out from the grueling three months of the trip or that she’d caught a bug. But she insisted that she was fine.
Raymond pulled open the double door stainless steel refrigerator and opened the vegetable bin drawer. He took out fresh spinach, baby tomatoes, a box of mushrooms and a cucumber and prepared a quick side salad. Jacqueline loved pasta and it was the one thing he was good at in the kitchen. He washed and deveined a half pound of shrimp and then sautéed fresh garlic in a light olive oil. He tossed the cleaned shrimp into the sizzling pan, while the water boiled for the pasta.
“Hey.”
Raymond turned from the sink. He smiled at her still sleepy-eyed appearance. “Hey, yourself. Get enough rest?”
She nodded her head, covered her yawn and tightened the belt on her robe. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing dinner. Figured you’d be hungry. I know I am.” He plucked a shrimp from the pan and walked over to her. He held it tauntingly above her lips. She opened her mouth and he dropped it in.
She chewed slowly. “Hmmm.”
He grinned. “It’ll be ready soon.”
She sat down on the counter stool. “How long have you been here?”
“’Bout an hour or so.” He dropped the pasta into the boiling water and then opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. “Want one?” he asked holding up a bottle of Rochefort Trappistes 10.
Jacqueline propped her chin up on her hands. “A new one?”
“Yeah, and you’ll love it. It’s a Belgium brew.” His smooth brows bounced.
Besides being an award-winning photographer, Raymond was a beer connoisseur and collector. His house in the valley had a room with some of the most rare and expensive beers in the world. He’d been featured in All About Beer and Beer Connoisseur magazines on several occasions. And whatever part of the world that they traveled he always had to try out the beer.
He opened a bottle and handed it to her. He watched her in anticipation while she took her first sip. Her hazel eyes shifted to a warm brown and her lids fluttered closed as she savored the dark color, full-bodied taste with hints of strong plum, raisin and black currant.
“Hmmm,” she hummed in appreciation, rolling the liquid around on her tongue. She’d always been a white wine and martini girl, but Raymond had expanded her taste buds. In her head she equated beer to guys sharing a six-pack while watching baseball and eating hot dogs. He turned beer drinking into an exotic experience.
Raymond clapped his hands. “Great. I knew you’d love it.” He turned back to the stove, took the pasta off the flame and drained it in the sink. He mixed chopped baby tomatoes, fresh basil, olive oil and ground black pepper, and tossed it with the pasta in a large serving plate. He took the cooked shrimp from the skillet, layered them on top then sprinkled the dish with fresh Parmesan cheese.
Jacqueline got up and took two plates down from the cabinet over the sink. Raymond seized the opportunity of her close proximity to slide his arm around her waist and planted a kiss behind her ear. She moved easily away.
“I’m actually starved,” she said, not looking at him while she put the plates on the counter.
Raymond watched the way she kept her back to him, the calculated way that she placed each item next to the other.
“So…what did you do today?” he asked, giving the pasta one last toss.
For a moment she stilled. “Met Traci for brunch,” she said a bit too cheery. “She asked about you.” She looked at him quickly before turning away.
Raymond brought the plate to the counter along with the serving tongs. “Salad is in the fridge.”
“I’ll get it.”
They sat down opposite each other and dished out the pasta.
“Looks and smells delicious,” Jacqueline said, staying focused on her plate.
Raymond studied her from beneath his lashes. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Jacquie. You’re tired all the time, you barely want me to touch you, you won’t hold a real conversation… Do I need to go on? You haven’t been the same since we got back.”
She blinked rapidly, reached for her bottle of beer but put it down. “Ray…” She pushed out a breath.
“Say it. Say what you’ve been trying not to say for weeks.”
She looked at him, stared deep into his eyes and saw her own hurt and confusion swimming in the dark depths.
“I’m tired. Plain and simple. Can’t I be tired? I’m not superwoman, you know. I’ve been working nonstop for the past year in every nook and cranny on the planet,” she said, throwing her hand up in the air. “And the last thing I need is you bugging me to death about it.” She took a long swallow of beer and set it down then ran her hand through the spiral twists of her hair. She turned her head away. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him. “Can we enjoy this nice meal that you toiled over and talk about something else?” She offered a strained smile. “Please.”
Raymond exhaled a long frustrated breath. “You’re a difficult woman, J,” he conceded. “I’m gonna let it go for now.”
“Good.” She turned her attention to her pasta. “You want me to drive you to the airport in the morning?”
He cocked a brow. “You want to?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks. By the way, the invitation for my parents’ fiftieth anniversary party arrived yesterday. The celebration takes place in three months, and I wish you would come with me.”
She kept her eyes on her plate. “I told you, I don’t do family.”
“You never talk about your family.”
“Nothing to talk about.” She stirred her food around in her plate.
“Another non-topic,” he murmured.
Jacqueline chose to ignore the barb. She’d put physical miles and emotional distance between her and her family for years. She periodically stayed in touch with her nieces, LeAnn, Dominique and Desiree, and nephews Rafe and Justin. But she hadn’t spoken to her brother in years. She was not of the mighty Lawson ilk. She made her own name and her own way in the world. She refused to be dictated to by her brother the way he did everyone else. The people in her life didn’t even know that she was related to the royal Lawson clan of Louisiana. And that’s the way she wanted to keep it, including Raymond.
Raymond studied her while he finished off his beer. What happened between her and her brother? She never talked about Branford Lawson and had he not done some digging on his own he would have never known that they were related. Crazy. But he would respect her wishes, even if he didn’t understand her reasons. To him, family was sacred. He came from a large, loving, all-in-your-business family. He couldn’t imagine not having them in his life. But Jacqueline Lawson was a complex woman. It was what he loved about her, but he’d kept that to himself as well.
Jacqueline pushed up from the table and came around to Raymond’s side. She put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re going to have a wonderful time, do all those things that families do when they get together and then you’ll fly back.”
Raymond turned on the stool and pulled her between his thighs. He looked up at her and caressed the side of her face with his finger. She lowered herself onto his lap. He tilted her chin upward and kissed her softly.
Jacqueline lightly draped her delicate wrists on either side of his neck and looked into his dark almost black eyes, seeing the history of their journey there, a journey that she was going to have to end. Her insides tightened.
When had their relationship gone from professional to personal? For several years it had been only business between them. It was the way it should have stayed but she’d made the mistake of letting Raymond slip past her defenses.
They’d met quite by accident at the National Association of Black Journalists a few years ago, at the annual awards dinner in Washington, D.C.…
Chapter 2
Jacqueline never enjoyed those stuffed shirt affairs. She’d sweltered in them most of her young life growing up in the Lawson household where the sun shining was reason enough to throw a gala. Her mother and father—God rest their souls—were Southern royalty. Her father’s closest friends were those that most people only read about. And her mother was in her glory entertaining them. The Lawson home was and remained the central hub for the comings and goings of the political, corporate and entertainment Who’s Who. And her brothers Branford and David were cut from the same cloth.
Perhaps it was because she was the youngest—a change of life baby, as her mother always reminded her—and a girl, that her father focused all of his attention on her brothers and her mother turned her over to the nanny so that she could conduct her charity events and social climbing.
Jacqueline never felt part of the family but more of an afterthought. So she made her own way, built her own life and over time the tenuous ties that bound her to her family were severed. The final cut being her brother David.
Unfortunately, those once per year events were part and parcel of her business and as reluctant as she was to admit it, she did learn from living it, that rubbing elbows was needed and necessary. And, besides, it was one of the few times that she did have a chance to interact with her colleagues and see some of the important work they were doing and being recognized for.
When she’d walked into the grand ballroom at the Kennedy Center she immediately wished that she’d brought a date. She pasted on her best smile and wandered over to the bar. The crutch of a glass of white wine could hold her up for at least an hour if she sipped really slowly. And if she found a comfortable leaning position or a good seat out of the way, her feet encased in “sex me” heels would last through the long evening.
“You look like you hate this almost as much as I do.”
She angled her head to the right and inhaled a short, sharp breath. Yummy was her first thought before she could respond.
“Is it that obvious?” She arched a questioning brow as her photographic eye took him in from head to toe in one click of her internal lens.
The amazing dark chocolate-brown eyes twinkled in the light and creased at the edges when he smiled down at her. She wasn’t a big gospel fan but he sure could be a body double for the singer BeBe Winans with the dulcet tone to go with the look. And that body appeared totally comfortable and sleek in his tux.
“You have the ever ready wineglass. The casual lean against the bar pose…” His gaze traveled down. “…to keep the pressure off of those pretty feet.”
She bit back a smile.
“And the…‘just how long is this thing gonna last,’ look in your eyes.” He turned to the bar and picked up his glass of Hennessey on the rocks then returned his attention back to her.
“Observant.”
“Occupational hazard. Journalist?”
“Photographic.”
He nodded slowly in appreciation.
“You?”
“Foreign correspondent.”
She switched her wine flute from her right hand to her left and extended her hand. “Jacqueline.”
“Raymond Jordan.” His hand enveloped hers.
He smelled good, too. “Nice to meet you.”
“You have a table?”
“No. Do you?”
“Naw.” He took a swallow of his drink. “I figured there had to be an available seat in here somewhere. After all, I pay my dues and I did get an invite.”
She giggled. “My sentiments exactly.”
“Care to spend the evening with another jaded guest?”
Jacqueline glanced up at him. “Sure, why not.”
Raymond crooked his elbow and Jacqueline hooked her arm through.
They found a table in the center of the room with two empty seats at a table for eight. After a bit of seat shifting they settled next to each other and were soon served appetizers for the sit-down dinner.
Up front, CNN correspondent Anderson Cooper was in conversation with Karen Ballard, who specialized in motion picture photography. Jacqueline and Raymond whispered conspiratorially about Cooper’s possible appearance in a film and they entertained themselves by concocting stories about the plethora of attendees that spanned the gamut of journalism, and swapped stories about some of their memorable assignments.
Raymond was equally as traveled as Jacqueline and spoke three languages fluently, compared to her two. He’d lived in Japan for a year, spent several summers in Europe and loved motorcycle riding.
“What was it like being embedded with the troops in Iraq?” he asked.
“Scary. But I knew that they wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I was there to do a job and they respected that.” She glanced off.
“Must have been tough. The things you saw…”
She nodded. “It was.” She turned and looked into his eyes. “The sad part is, I’ve seen and photographed worse.”
“I know. In this business when you think you’ve seen everything there’s one more thing that sucks the air out of your lungs.”
“Fortunately, there’s still some beauty left in the world.”
“Fortunately,” he said and raised his glass to her, his gaze moving with appreciation across her face.
After a long line of award-winners and acceptance speeches, the event wound down to a glittering close.
Jacqueline and Raymond made their way out through the throng of bodies.
“Going to the after party?” Raymond asked once they were outside.
“Oh no,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve had enough party people to last me at least until this time next year.”
Raymond chuckled. “Live here or staying in town?”
“Actually, I’m only here until tomorrow. I fly out in the morning. Off to Israel for the next month.”
“Busy lady. Where do you call home?”
She hesitated for a moment. Louisiana was where she was born but it hadn’t been home for a very long time. “California.”
His head jerked back in surprise. “Me too.”
“That’s just a pickup line, right?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Seriously. I moved out there about a year ago from Maplewood, New Jersey. I’m in San Fernando Valley. Been there about two years now.”
“Hmmm. Small world.”
“Maybe we can get together the next time we’re in the same time zone.”
Jacqueline offered a half smile. She lifted her arm to signal for the next taxi in line.
A cab pulled up in front of them. Raymond stepped forward and opened the door for her. She ducked in the cab.
Raymond stuck his head in. “Safe travels, pretty lady. Thanks for spending the evening with me.”
There was no room in her life for a man like Raymond, for any man or anyone. She didn’t stay put long enough for a relationship to have any meaning. And there was no point in opening the door to something that would never get a chance to cross the threshold.