Savannah Heat

Chapter One

Jenna Myers got off the plane in Savannah and took a deep breath. Yes, the heat and humidity reminded her she landed in the South, but she didn’t mind. Savannah, the city she loved most, was now before her. Home—well, sort of home. She spent many summers here with her grandmother. Savannah, a special place in her past, and it still had the ability to somehow make her feel safe, secure, special, and at home. Her grandmother was fond of saying that her New York fell away by day three. She wasn’t far off. By the end of every summer, that special Savannah-style Southern accent would soften her New York tongue.

Jenna dressed for comfort to make the trip. She chose her favorite jeans and Harvard sweatshirt. The black ribbon used to hold back her long auburn hair, making her look younger than her thirty-eight years, had escaped. She made her way through the busy airport hoping Brock would be waiting with a car, one with the air conditioner running. As if reading her mind, his text popped up telling her he was in the limo area waiting.

Though getting to know Brock on a deeper level, still an on-going process, she liked that he never let her down. He was dependable. Unlike Dan, to whom she somehow managed to compare every man she dated for the last five years, and even though he proved to be unreliable in almost every way. The fact she thought of him often, and almost hourly in the last few days, was driving her to distraction. She blamed it on being back in Savannah, where he left her nearly five years before.

As if her constant thoughts of Dan conjured him, she gasped as the man twenty feet ahead turned to the left, and she got a look at his profile. She stopped so suddenly the woman behind almost crashed into her. Jenna apologized to the scowling woman and rushed toward the exit door leading to transportation area. No, it couldn’t be him . By the time she made it to the door, she almost convinced herself she’d made a mistake. After all, what would he be doing here in Savannah? Then it hit her—maybe he was here for the jewels.

The Georgia senator’s Black-and-White Masked Ball would bring out every wealthy woman in the state, and some of his friends from out of state. The men would do what men always do, and the women would show off their expensive dresses and even more expensive jewelry. The event was all about being seen, photographed, and written about. Every socialite wanted to get her picture in the news coverage photos from such an event. But the real reason for the event was so the senator could raise money for his upcoming campaign and keep those political contacts healthy.

Brock, his blond hair shining like a beacon, waved, and opened the limo door as the driver opened the trunk for her suitcase.

Jenna dared a glance around the area before getting into the car, afraid she would see Dan, and maybe afraid she wouldn’t. Am I losing my mind? Chill, you’re just tired.

Brock did his usual up-and-down assessment of her outfit. “I see you dressed for comfort today.”

Jenna scowled as she got into the car. “Yes, I did, and I’m not apologizing. No one on the plane complained. Why are you so obsessed with my wardrobe?” Jenna watched Brock’s usual shrug and grin, to imply he was joking, But she knew he wasn’t. If he had a flaw, this was it. He was overly concerned about what everyone else thought. To Brock, what one looked like and appeared to be, was the main thing, true or not. This trait was on the verge of annoying her.

Brock sighed and put his hand on Jenna’s as their driver pulled out into traffic. “Image is everything, Jenna. I keep telling you that, and I can’t believe that in your line of work, you can be so unconcerned about it. You, roaming the fashion scene for years, should know this.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Who did I need to impress on the plane, in the airport, or will I need to impress at the hotel front desk when we check in?”

Brock sighed and shook his head as he sat back with a sigh. “A sweatshirt, Jenna, even a Harvard one. What does that say about you? What do you want others to think of you? Your image is everything, you know. I try, and I try.”

“Well, stop trying and cut out the drama. I dress for the occasion, and this is what a plane ride called for—comfort.” After some long minutes of silence, Jenna tamped down her annoyance. Thinking it best to change the subject, she dug into her bag and pulled out a small gold box from Clancy’s, Brock’s favorite jewelers. Jenna leaned in and kissed him. “Happy forty-one, Brock, you are officially old.”

He opened the box and smiled. “Ah, you were paying attention. The cufflinks I lost in Ireland. These are identical. And I am not old. Forty is the new thirty, so they say.”

Jenna grinned. Brock was touchy about his age. “It’s not like I could avoid your moaning about the loss of the cufflinks all the way back from Dublin to New York. Glad I guessed right; they had another pair very similar. And you are forty-one not forty.” She couldn’t resist saying.

Brock put the box into his jacket pocket and closed the window between them and the driver. “We have a suite on the same floor as the senator’s two main guests, a congressman and some media guy. All the security is a bit of a pain, but our suite is huge.”

Jenna nodded and smiled at Brock but hardly heard him. She looked at the passing scenery, waiting for that moment when downtown Savannah would show its face. The busyness of the airport area soon fell away to be replaced by the city she loved. She was greeted by the moss-covered trees, and the uneven streets bordered on both sides with houses still standing after many decades. The view was like a warm hug.

Jenna turned her attention back to Brock. “A lot of security is to be expected. This Black-and-White Masked Ball is one of the biggest fund-raisers for Senator Roseland’s reelection and for his party in general. Not to mention the two big parties leading up to it, the dinner party with some singer, I forget who, and the offsite events, golf, and the art auction.”

Brock took his buzzing phone from his pocket. “The golf, I’m looking forward to, but you can keep the rest. Speaking of golf, that was my text alert to sign up for times and teams. But yeah, so lots of rich people carrying lots of expensive stuff. I’m sure everyone who is anyone will be in town.”

“Ah, the important things in life.”

Brock grinned and eyed Jenna’s sweatshirt again. His gaze traveled to the jewelry she wore, and he put his hand on her bracelet. “Yes, it makes me feel safe, having all this security. But how about you and your stuff?”

Jenna held up her right hand. “My stuff, as you put it, is not a problem. I don’t travel with expensive jewels. I have fakes of all my good stuff, and that is what I wear except for a couple of sentimental pieces like my emerald ring my gran gave me.”

Brock looked at Jenna’s ring and shook his head. “I’ve never understood why people pay so much money for jewelry and then are afraid to wear it. And on top of that, pay another truckload of money to have fakes made up to look just like them. It’s crazy.”

“Diamonds and gems are an investment, and it’s the fun of collecting and having something no one else has.” Jenna sat back in her seat and looked out the window again. She was always shocked at how much she missed Savannah every time she came back for a visit. She didn’t expect Brock to understand her love of diamonds and gems or her love of Savannah. The only person who could was one she couldn’t afford to think about too much, and she refused to think about him any more today.

“Collecting jewelry that you can’t wear sounds boring and slightly nuts. There must be better ways to make money and better things to collect.” Brock looked at her ring again and frowned. “That bracelet looks expensive. You wear it a lot. Is it a family heirloom or something?”

Jenna turned her face back to the window. “No, I just like it.”

“Well, I still don’t get the thrill of collecting pretty rocks.”

Jenna kept her eyes on the passing scenery. “Yes, I know. It’s all about buying real estate for you. And I don’t get a thrill from watching grown men hit a little white ball across grass.”

Brock laughed. “Yes, well, first, real estate is practical, and no one is going to take it from you. And second, hitting the little white ball relieves tension and offers opportunity to make connections that lead to money—and more real estate deals.”

Jenna looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Brock? Do all roads lead to real estate? I never want to hear you complain about my jewelry collection again.”

Brock held both hands in the air and smiled. “Truce. If I had a white flag, I’d fly it.”

“Okay, truce, now be quiet and let me enjoy the scenery.”

By the time they got to the hotel, the sun began to set. After getting out of the car, Jenna stood for a moment to look around. It had been years since she was in her beloved Savannah. She put her right hand over her heart as if she could protect it from the memory of her last visit. She and Dan said their final goodbye here at this same hotel. Though, at the time, she didn’t know it would be final.

Brock gave their bags to the porter and nudged her along toward the hotel front door. “Come on, Jenna, I’m starving. Time to check in. You can get reacquainted with Savannah tomorrow.”

Jenna followed Brock inside, and she scanned the crowd in the hotel lobby while Brock checked in. Her stomach clenched at the idea she might spot Dan in the area. Dan’s image was burned into her brain, and she could recall it in vivid detail. His weather-tanned face, the scar near the right temple, that almost-black hair that always needed a haircut, and those dark blue eyes that looked black when he was angry or excited.

“Who are you looking for?” Brock asked.

“What? Oh, just looking around to see what has changed since I was last here.”

“We’re all checked in. Let’s go up and dump this luggage. How about we call room service instead of going out?”

“Oh no, you don’t. I’m in the mood to walk and see the river, enjoy the fresh air, and have some great seafood. I want to treat you to a nice birthday dinner.”

Brock sighed dramatically. “Perhaps you might really mean we will sweat and breathe hot and humid air. Why you like that river is a mystery, but I guess I can’t refuse a birthday dinner.”

Jenna followed him into the elevator and tried to ban Dan from her thoughts—again, at least for the rest of the night.

After a quick change of clothes, they made their way back through the hotel lobby. Jenna looked around at the crowded lobby and recognized some faces. “Wow, we just beat the crowd. Some others from the media crowd have arrived. All my competition to cover this event.”

Brock nodded his head toward the right. “Everyone who is anyone; that’s a congressman I do believe. Do you really like hanging out with these people?”

Jenna pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Hanging out, as you put it, is my job. I write about people in the news for whatever reason. My job is to write about what is going on in their world because it impacts the lives of so many others.”

Brock, seeming to lose interest in the conversation he started, shrugged and put his hand on her back. “Come on, let’s get out of here before one of your cronies strikes up a boring conversation. Let’s get to the Blue Rose before we have to stand in line for a table.”

Jenna sighed. “Speaking of cronies, birthday boy, no table-hopping once we are at the restaurant. If you leave me just once to talk golf or real estate, I am out of there.”

Brock opened the door, and they walked out into the sultry air. “Message received, but you know you are handicapping me and my quest to be a multi-multimillionaire by forty-five.”

“Yes, well, I know you’re in your element. All these rich people around means connections and future business deals. You must be in heaven, and I get that, but dial it back for a few hours, please. I know it will be a huge sacrifice to concentrate on your dinner and me for an hour.”

Brock slowed his stride and looked at her. “How do you make what I do for a living always sound so sleazy? Let me remind you, it’s a nice living, and it’s paying for this little trip.”

Jenna laughed as they picked up their pace. “That you can write off on your taxes. But okay, it is your birthday.”

Brock shook his head but smiled. “So, be nice to me. Ah, food straight ahead.”

The Blue Rose, known for its seafood and fine service, was a three-block walk from the hotel. The weather in Savannah rarely got cold enough to prevent anyone from walking, even in the winter. Jenna slowed her pace as they approached the restaurant, telling herself she was taking in scenery and not looking for Dan.

They were seated within minutes, and Jenna realized she was hungry. She picked up the menu.

Brock ordered drinks.

Jenna followed his gaze as he looked around for someone he knew. He would never let an opportunity to make a business connection slip by.

The restaurant began to fill, and she was glad they left for the restaurant when they did. She looked across at Brock, who was unusually quiet, and saw he was distracted because his phone kept pinging. “Why not turn that off at least until we finish dinner?”

“Okay, yeah, I guess I can try. So, happy birthday to me. Wish we could have spent it in my favorite city and not yours. Not that I don’t enjoy Savannah now and then. But it’s not Paris.”

Jenna picked up her water glass. “And thank heavens for that,” she whispered. She had her reasons for avoiding Paris, but they weren’t ones she could tell Brock about. He was too absorbed in looking around for prospects to comment. For once, she was happy to be ignored.

The evening did not improve much from that point on, except for the food, which did not disappoint. By the time they returned to the hotel, they were both tired and irritable.

Jenna took a shower, leaving Brock sitting on the edge of the bed with his bottle of wine and phone. His favorite duo.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found him asleep, only halfway undressed. “Geez, Brock, what was in your wine?” Jenna mumbled as she pulled the sheet over him. She pulled her carry-on travel bag down from the shelf and dug out the book she’d started reading on the plane. She gave Brock a glance as she got into the other queen-sized bed. Even though she was tired, reading was the way she keyed down at night, part of her routine, and made her feel happy. Tonight, more than ever, she needed a distraction from her recurring thoughts of Dan and her increasing annoyance with Brock.