Hideaway (23 page)

Martin stood up, pulling her up with him. He cradled her face between his hands. “Are you still hiding, Parris? Are you still afraid?”

“No,” she confessed truthfully. “As long as I’m with you I’m not afraid.”

M
artin walked into the bedroom and stopped short. Parris stood beside the bed, wearing only a pair of black lace bikini underpants. His body reacted violently.

She had carried and delivered a baby yet her belly was still flat and her hips firm. Only her breasts had changed; they were fuller, the areola darker and larger. She folded her hands on her hips, pulling back her shoulders and her breasts jutted out, heavy and lush as ripened fruit.

“I like the red,” he said in a strangled voice, surprising her as she spun around.

She smiled at him. “There’s not much to it.”

He returned her smile. “That’s why I like it.”

She picked up a red silk strapless dress with a flaring skirt, holding it up in front of her. “It’s rather risqué, don’t you think?”

“You’re risqué, Parris Cole,” he teased. His eyes glittered when he remembered their rapacious lovemaking earlier that morning.

He continued to watch her as she stepped into the dress. Her long legs seemed to go on forever in the narrow red satin heels that added an additional three inches to her five-foot-eight-inch height.

“Hook me up please.”

Martin moved closer to Parris, inhaling the cloying perfume on her glistening satiny brown skin. And for the first time since
he’d begun campaigning he wanted out. It had taken only two days for him to settle into his new home and experience what it meant to be a husband and father—and he loved it.

Lowering his head, his lips feathered across the width of her scented bare shoulders. “You only have ten minutes to fix your face and hair before we leave.”

Turning, Parris smiled up at him through her lashes. “I’ll be ready.” She kissed his cheek and pushed him gently. “Go, please.”

Martin watched the swell of breasts rising and falling above the revealing decollete of red silk. She’s perfect, he mused. A perfect wife and a perfect mother.

“Martin!” Parris pleaded. His eyes revealed his hunger for her. If he didn’t leave their bedroom neither one of them would attend the scheduled fund-raising event at a Fort Lauderdale sports complex.

She let out her breath as he turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom. The phone rang and she picked it up after the first ring.

“Hello.” There was only the sound of breathing. “Hello,” she repeated another two times before she hung up. She wished she had a whistle to blow into the receiver. It would serve the pervert just right if she blew out his eardrum.

Parris sat down at her dressing table, quickly and expertly making up her face and styling her hair. She was ready when Martin returned to the bedroom.

Parris rose to her feet with the sixty thousand other spectators in the sports complex, cheering the musicians who gathered for the fund-raising event. As many as ten groups, Night Mood included, had combined their musical talents to host the Musicians for Cole extravaganza. She squeezed Regina’s hand gently, smiling when noting the awe-struck expression on the child’s face.

Regina cupped her hands to her mother’s ear. “When is Uncle David coming on?” she shouted.

“He’s up next.”

A roar went up from the crowd from the upper deck of the
stadium and Parris glanced over her left shoulder. Several rows behind her, her gaze met those of the man with the large vein in his forehead. He smiled at her, nodded, then turned his attention back to the stage as shafts of light highlighted the members of Night Mood.

Parris turned her attention back to the stage, breathing heavily. What was he doing there? Had he followed her?

Don’t lose it, Parris, she told herself. She couldn’t start screaming in front of sixty thousand people that a man was stalking her because he wanted her dead. She didn’t know him other than that he worked for a landscaping company she had contracted to put in her lawn and flower garden. She could not allow her fear to replace common sense. The man had every right to be where he was. He had paid his money to attend a fund-raising event.

The flashing lights ringed David Cole’s raven hair in an aureole of gold. He held up his arms for silence. “Is everyone having a good time?” David crooned into a microphone. A deafening roar ensued.

I was
, Parris thought,
having a good time until I saw the landscaper smiling at me
.

“Well, we aren’t finished yet,” David continued. “We have a very special guest here with us tonight.” There was an eerie silence in the open-air stadium as the spectators waited in the humid air blowing off the Atlantic.

“I know that most of you have heard this man speak, but I wonder how many of you have heard him play. Perhaps if he decides to give up politics he could always play backup keyboards for our band.”

David strutted across the stage like a peacock in a black tank top, black jeans and a pair of low-heeled ostrich-skin boots. He ran a hand through his hair and the light glinted off the gold hoop in his left ear. A woman screamed out his name. David paused, smiling. “Why, bless you.” The stadium erupted in laughter. “I’m somewhat biased when it comes to our special guest because he happens to be my brother. Ladies and gentlemen, Martin Diaz Cole!”

Parris forgot about the man as her heart pounded relentlessly in her ears when she watched Martin make his way across the stage. The blazing spotlight followed his progress, illuminating his longer dark hair, midnight blue silk jacket, collarless shirt and linen slacks. He smiled at David, extending both arms above his head and giving him a high-five handshake.

The two brothers, tall, lean and muscled electrified the audience as screams shattered the night.

“Speech! Speech!” The word was chanted in the sultry air.

David shook his head, raising the microphone to his mouth. “No speeches tonight. Just music and your vote in November.” He moved closer to the edge of the stage and blew a kiss to Parris and Regina who were seated only five rows from the stage area.

“Tonight Night Mood is going to give you a taste of soul and salsa.” He placed the microphone on its stand and took his position behind a set of congas. His fingers moved like softly falling rain as they caressed the stretched surface of the drums and the rhythmical sounds of Africa and the Caribbean filled the stadium.

Parris watched, transfixed as the rhythm of the drums throbbed passionately, reaching inside of her and sweeping away her tension and fear where she was transported back to the land of her ancestors. The beat was fluid, restrained and sensual.

She recalled the time she had heard the musical composition and she closed her eyes, reliving the first time she’d danced with Martin. He had asked her if she was familiar with
the fire
. She’d admitted she hadn’t been but he soon changed that. She felt the fire and her world shook.

Martin was the consummate lover, always making certain she was fulfilled before taking his own satisfaction. He was selfless in bed.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him as his fingers rippled across the double keyboard like flowing water. The music pulsed from the powerful sound system, lights flashing wildly in various colors. Every seat in the stadium was empty as the crowd swayed and gyrated in the aisles.

The sounds of the jungle were hypnotic, spellbinding. The
force of the music had everyone stomping, clapping and dancing in a powerful grip beyond their control.

Parris wasn’t certain when it all ended because she found herself screaming as much as the others. Only Joshua’s hand on her shoulder broke the spell.

Suddenly she wondered if anyone had observed her reacting like a star-struck adolescent. Clutching Regina’s hand, she followed the stadium security personnel to the stage. The flared red silk dress swirled around her long legs and a chorus of whistles followed her progress across the stage. Her knees were weak and her hand shook as she extended it to Martin.

He pressed her to his chest, his heart pounding like jungle drums. She stared up at his face and recognized the wild glazed look in his eyes. It was as if he had been injected with a powerful stimulant. Martin Diaz Cole was high. High on power!

Regina stood between her parents, trying to hide from the thousands of people staring at her from out of the darkness of the warm spring night. Martin leaned over and picked her up, raising her arm to wave at the people who had come to enjoy a night filled with music, and to catch a glimpse of a candidate they could relate to.

Without warning, hundreds of red, white and blue balloons were released from an overhead net and they floated out over the stadium. The crowd, momentarily distracted, did not see Martin, Parris and Regina when they were escorted backstage.

Stepping over cables and skirting lights, they left the stadium and walked to where Joshua waited by a car. He helped Regina and Parris into the automobile.

Martin shook his head in amazement, grinning. Joshua, feeling his excitement, gave him a quick rough embrace.

“How did it feel, buddy?”

Martin laid his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Good, Josh. Damn good!”

“I’ve got her set up.”

“That’s what you told me the last time.”

“I have a schedule of all of their public appearances.”

“Which means what?”

“Everything can be planned in advance.”

“It sounds good. Do it soon.”

“I plan to.”

Parris thoroughly enjoyed the three week respite she had been given from campaigning with Martin. He had changed his schedule where he made public appearances in many of the major cities along the east coast but returned home each night.

His campaign manager, while agreeing to the arrangement, had become uncomfortable with his candidate’s unavailability. He wanted an at-home taped interview with Martin, his wife and daughter, but Parris quickly disagreed. She would not allow television cameras or personnel into her home. However, she agreed to accompany Martin when he resumed his fast-paced stops across the state June first.

She dressed with special care for a West Palm Beach fund-raising dinner. It would the last time she and Martin would appear publicly in their former hometown until the election.

“I must admit that you look lovely, Parris.”

Parris smiled at her mother-in-law’s reflection in the mirror. “Thank you, M.J.” She studied her own reflection, adjusting the heavy beaded necklace of lapis lazuli with a center of pear-shaped lapis lazuli, mobé pearls and diamonds. Elegant mobé pearl drop earrings, suspended from diamonds, hung from her lobes. Her strapless dress in organdy with a beaded pearl-seeded bodice and two tiers of ruffles banded in cobalt blue satin flowed into yards of pristine white, ending several inches above the floor in the same blue satin that covered the top of the bodice, belt and ruffles.

M.J. pursed her crimson mouth, while lightly powdering her nose. “It’s about time Martin decided to do something in his hometown. Too many people were saying that he acts more like a musician than a politician.”

Parris shot a baleful glance at the woman exquisitely gowned in white crêpe with shimmering triangle insets of bugle beads along the shoulders and at her neckline.

“The Gold Coast is not the state of Florida. All of the money in Palm Beach won’t get Martin elected if registered voters don’t go to the polls and vote for him.”

“I’m afraid you misunderstand me, Parris,” M.J. said quickly. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. “I merely meant that Martin must be highly visible if he’s to win.”

Parris picked up her sequin evening purse. She and M.J. had managed to be civil to each other since she had moved to Fort Lauderdale and, wanting to please Martin, Parris was more than happy to have it remain that way.

M.J. sighed in relief, smiling her attractive dimpled smile. “We’d better get back to the ballroom before Sammy and Martin send out a search party for us.”

Both women left the powder room at the West Palm Beach Polo Club, rejoining the invited guests at the elegant fund-raising gala event. Speeches and dinner behind them, the large crowd danced, or stood around in small groups talking and drinking. When the affair had been advertised, the thousand dollar-a-plate dinner was sold out within days. West Palm Beach did not hesitate to rally behind its native son.

Parris smiled and nodded as she made her way across the ballroom. Smiling had become as natural to her as breathing.

“Do you think you could save a dance for an old man?”

Parris focused her bright smile on Samuel Cole and linked her bare arm through the muscular forearm covered by the black fabric of his tuxedo. From the heightened color in his red-brown face, she suspected he had exceeded his quota of his favored scotch and soda.

“Fishing for a compliment, Sammy? I’d put my money on you any day than on a man twenty years younger.”

Samuel gathered her in a firm embrace. “Tell that to my wife,” he whispered against her cheek. He led Parris into the quick smooth steps of a foxtrot. In spite of his large bulk he was light on his feet and as graceful as a professional dancer. “My son has everything he could ever want.”

Parris pulled back slightly, staring up at her father-in-law.
“Why would you say that?” She registered the faraway expression in his dark eyes.

“He has the woman he always wanted for his wife and a beautiful child he can claim as his own.”

“I don’t think you’ve done too badly, Sammy.”

He blinked several times, then gave her a sad smile. “You’re right, Parris.” She thanked him effusively when the dance number ended and followed his lead to the bar.

“A little champagne, Parris?”

She nodded, and he asked the bartender for her champagne and a scotch and soda. She sipped the dry bubbly wine while Samuel downed his drink. Over the rim of her glass she spied Joshua and smiled. He acknowledged her greeting with a slight nod of his head. He also was dressed in formal attire and appeared to be as comfortable in it as he was in his casual clothing. She beckoned for him and Samuel frowned when he noted her gesture.

“I must get back to M.J.,” he explained, walking away from Parris.