Chapter 01: The Journey Begins
Archer Mason leaned indolently, in true southern gentlemanly fashion, against a pillar nearest the patio doors of the ballroom, the requisite mint julep in his right hand, and an unlit Cuban dangling from the fingers of his left. Eyes the color of bourbon glittered in expectation as he watched the velvet beauty across the room; mingling, chatting, charming, laughing. His eyes roved lazily, appreciatively over the exposed skin of her delicious shoulders, and then lower to her back, the little dip where it met the curve of one of the finest asses it had ever been his pleasure to behold. The firm buttocks swayed gently underneath soft satin, the hem of the backless creation ending just a bare three inches above her knees. Shapely legs drew his attention as she continued her circuit around the ballroom; the image of those same legs, hooked over his shoulders as he fucked his cock into a tight little pussy had him hissing between his teeth.
At that moment she stopped, stiffened; her eyes scanned the ballroom looking for someone? Her jewel green eyes narrowed in concentration; she bit her lower lip. After a few minutes she shrugged off whatever thoughts plagued her and made a beeline for a small group a mere ten feet away from his position. Could she have felt his eyes on her, their intent? Or had she been looking for a friend, a lover? If it was a lover she was looking for then she would not be disappointed. He was more than willing to oblige.
"Your exquisite taste in fine food and wine is surpassed only by your taste in women, mi amigo."
Archer didn't bother responding. His friend was right; he was a connoisseur of all things exquisite. Wine, food, art, women; he knew them, appreciated them. After a few more minutes gazing at the divine creature he turned to face his friend, Gabriel Serrano. American born to Spanish immigrants, they'd been friends since grade school in a little known town in Colorado. At eighteen they'd enlisted in the Army and never looked back. Mickelson held no appeal for them; the citizens had treated them with harsh disdain and could be blamed for most of the suffering their parents had endured there. That was all over now, of course. Both were very rich and more powerful than the wealthiest man in Mickelson. They could buy Mickelson and gobble it up whole, but they'd decided long ago it wasn't worth it.
Gabriel eyed his friend Archer from beneath lowered eyelids. Archer was on the prowl, not an uncommon occurrence for his friend. He did like his women. If only.... He gave himself a mental slap-down. In all the years he'd known Archer he'd never picked up on even a small hint that he was attracted to men. Gabriel loved women and men with equal fervor, and often pursued both with an unquenchable hunger. He was a slave to his own dark lusts. Lately, however, he'd been unusually driven and unusually dissatisfied. It was becoming more difficult to control his feelings for Archer, but thankfully his friend was unaware. If Archer gave even a hint that he was interested; but no, it would never happen. Perhaps he should leave town for a bit, get a handle on things. He didn't want to ruin his friendship with Archer, and that's exactly what would happen if he made a move. Shaking off such depressing thoughts he gave his report to Archer.
"Lacey Hughes, age 27, single, never been married and owns and runs her own security design firm. There's money on her Mother's side; social connections on her Father's; estranged."
Gabriel recited the brief history on Lacey with precision; the information guru of their duo, he had a plethora of useful and not so useful information stored in his brain.
"If she has a lover or if she's had several lovers then I can only imagine she is discreet. The city of Montgomery, indeed even the cream of society itself, adores Lacey." "Discreet is good" drawled Archer. His eyes met Gabriel's with perfect understanding; a mirroring lust was reflected there. The hunt was on and the lovely Lacey was their prey.
Lacey was being watched. God, that sounded paranoid, but the itch between her shoulders wouldn't stop. The ballroom was crowded with Montgomery's elite; black tuxedo-clad gentleman and finely coiffed ladies. She was one of them, and she knew from past experience that more often than not eyes would be on her. Her family was well known and well respected here, and there was always someone watching her. But...but this was different. The itch was underlined with a sweet burn that inexplicably had nerves humming, flesh heating and nipples painfully puckered under the satin material of her dress. As casually as she could she scanned the crowd, trying to find the eyes that caressed her. No one stood out however, and after a few minutes gave up in frustration.
She strode over to the cluster of couples nearest the staircase leading into the ballroom, the patio at her back. Rather, she tried to make small talk. Her smile felt frozen on her face. After a few moments she gave up. She needed to get her head on straight. The patio did not appeal; it had rained all day and the air was chill, typical for November here. What she'd been thinking to wear such a miniscule dress, she didn't know.
As stealthily as she could she walked down the hallway parallel to the staircase, sighing in relief once she reached the study. She was grateful to find it empty. Curious, she explored the space as she attempted to calm her jittery nerves. So this was the study of Archer Mason, the industrialist king south of the Mason-Dixon Line. The fine rich leather furniture she'd expected. As well the sturdy oak desk and dark paneled walls and shelving. But it was the delicate glass figurines, encased in an even more delicate curio, which had her pausing. It was such a feminine thing to display in such a heavily masculine space.
"Do you like them, love?"
A masculine whisky-rich voice startled her out of her contemplation. Whirling around with a small gasp Lacey took a hesitant step back as she met the liquid heat in the man's eyes. And suddenly she knew; it was he she had felt out in the ballroom. It had been his eyes that had followed her all night long.
A discreet cough drew her attention to a second man she hadn't noticed before. They stood before her, their collective heated gazes causing the blood to pump heavily through her veins. The itch increased until it felt as if her insides were being invaded with hot pokers of sensation. If ever she'd met two more sexy men in her life she couldn't remember; sexy and dangerous. The second man was erotically dark and sinful, his Latin heritage evident in the olive complexion and chocolate brown eyes. The other was a rich confection of ambers and browns, like pure Tennessee whiskey. They made no attempt to hide their lust. Oh, boy, she was in trouble.
"Would you care for a drink? I have fine bourbon to share." Whiskey man strolled to the bar in the corner of the study; he poured three fingers into each of three heavy crystal glasses. Her eyes, mesmerized by those long efficient fingers, widened; her pupils dilated.
"I can attest to the quality, querida" murmured the other. He was beside her now; speaking softly into her ear. She hadn't even seen him move. "Archer keeps the finest here in the study, away from the heathens." Rich amusement colored his softly accented voice.
