Though more words did come forth, moans and sounds dominated their suite as they reconnected. No longer did the length of their day or the concerns of others fill their thoughts. Only the desires of pleasing and being pleased, filling and being filled, loving and being loved permeated their consciousness. It wasn’t until later, after untold heights, that they made it back to the soft sheets and king-sized bed. Even then, sleep had to wait.
Finally, after they both were satiated, Claire nestled against her husband’s chest, inhaled his intoxicating scent and drifted off to sleep.
There was no place like home.
Surround yourself with good people: people who are going to be honest with you and look out for your best interests.
—Derek Jeter
THE STACK OF mail on Claire’s desk looked daunting; nevertheless, she dove into it with renewed vigor. In all the previous years of their marriage and before, she hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day operations of the estate. Now that it was hers, she wanted to do all she could and truly be hands on. In all honesty, she enjoyed the quiet time spent in their home office doing something productive. Although she was no longer forecasting life-threatening hurricanes—meteorology was more than likely gone from her future—Claire was doing more than she’d ever done before. Her work kept the estate running, which was a far cry from the idle hours she’d spent in the past. Besides, the name on the deed to the estate was hers: Claire Nichols Rawlings. She had every right to make the decisions, and it was one less thing for Tony to worry about.
Since last fall, her husband had been busy becoming re-acclimated to Rawlings Industries. His two-year absence from the daily operations of his multiple corporations and financial endeavors required quite a bit of catching up. Even so, whenever possible, Tony chose to work from home. His devotion and commitment to plunge back into his life was not limited to Rawlings Industries. Tony wanted to spend as much time as possible at home with his wife and daughter. That was why, when faced with a full return to Rawlings Industries, he decided to share the CEO position with Tim Bronson. Tim had handled things exceptionally well in Tony’s absence; it only seemed right to keep him involved.
With Nichol and Shannon playing upstairs, Claire settled into her plush desk chair and took on the two weeks’ accumulation of mail. Before she could make a dent, there was a knock on the door. Giggling to herself, Claire thought, it wasn’t Nichol: she didn’t knock. It was just another of her many father-like traits. “Come in,” she called, expecting Shannon.
“Claire…” Phil’s voice caused Claire to look up. “…I wanted to catch you before you went through the mail. I was just told that today’s delivery was brought in here before I could go through it.”
Phil wasn’t only Claire’s bodyguard and head of the estate’s security: he was also her friend. With their long history, Claire recognized something in his tone that filled her with a sense of foreboding.
“Why?” she asked. “We haven’t received any more threatening letters or packages since before the trip. Have we?”
Phil pressed his lips together. Golden flecks glistened in the hazel eyes that peered knowingly at her through squinted lids. With a furrowed brow, he replied, “I would’ve thought you knew. Haven’t you spoken to Rawlings? He said he was going to tell you.”
Claire thought back to their time alone since coming home. It had only been one day, and honestly, last night there was very little talking. She worked to keep the blush from her cheeks as she remembered just how little talking they’d done the night before. Prior to that, they’d both been too busy doing other things or with Nichol. Discussions about the threatening mailings they’d received didn’t exactly seem like good family-dinner conversation. “I’ve spoken with him, but I guess we didn’t get a chance to talk about it, and he was gone this morning before I woke.”
Phil took a deep breath and motioned toward one of the chairs opposite Claire’s desk. “Do you mind?”