Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion)

by Bobbi Cole Meyer

  Trey saw the gleam in Johnson’s eye as he waited for him to reply. He exhaled an exasperated breath, knowing what the man was thinking. Maybe this would be the time he could legitimately fire him.

  Trey knew the alternative for an operative refusing an assignment by a partner was instant release from the firm.

  “I’ll meet with Dr. Romero.”

  Glancing at his watch, Johnson’s tone was clipped, showing his disappointment.

  “You have less than a half-hour before he joins you in your office.”

  For a second, Trey entertained the idea of just asking Johnson what the hell he had against him, but he didn’t, just like he hadn’t all those times before when he’d wanted to, but someday he intended to get to the bottom of Johnson’s hatred.

  Knowing that to be a dismissal, Trey got up and left Johnson’s office, muttering curses under his breath.

  He got a cup of coffee from the kitchen area and then went to his own small, windowless office, mentally going over what Gavin Johnson had said—and what he had implied. Something isn’t right about this assignment. I get the feeling that it will turn out to be a quicksand bog Johnson is pushing me into just so he can watch me disappear.

  Trey was still in a quandary when Dr. Romero was ushered into his office by the firm’s secretary. He silently assessed the man’s haughty manner as they shook hands.

  Trey instinctively did not like Dr. Carlos Romero as the man stood coldly assessing him in much the same manner he was being assessed. Trey understood why he would be friends with Gavin. They were both obviously ego-driven and totally full of themselves.

  “Won’t you sit down, Dr. Romero?”

  “I don’t know how much Gavin has told you, Mr. Cameron, about the horrific situation involving my son,” Dr. Romero said after a quick, disparaging look around the small office before seating himself on the edge of the chair as though he thought it might be dirty.

  Trey decided to simply give the abridged version, mostly because he didn’t understand what Gavin had said anyway. “He told me only that you wanted him home and he refuses to come. And as I told Mr. Johnson, I do not kidnap people, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Certainly not. Although that thought occurred to me because I do believe J.J. has been brainwashed and, down the line, should you fail in your endeavors, I might have to resort to that.

  “However, knowing J.J., he would just disappear again when the opportunity presented itself. He is an ungrateful, spoiled, self-centered boy.”

  In other words, a chip off the old block, Trey thought as the man began rattling off all his son’s shortcomings. And the more he talked, the more Trey disliked him. What man berated his own son that way? Suddenly, without ever meeting the boy, Trey already felt sorry for him.

  Displaying a calm outward appearance, Trey listened as the doctor continued in his lengthy and vituperative dissertation of what he believed to be his son’s raunchy behavior while living in the house of the woman he felt certain was a modern-day Jezebel.

  Doing his best to maintain a noncommittal expression, in deference to the firm’s order that important clients were always right, or if not, were made to feel they were, Trey waited until the man finished his ranting before asking, “So, what is it you expect me to do, Dr. Romero?”

  “When I saw the men that odious woman had selected to be—ah—her tenants, I knew that I would need someone like you to gain her confidence. I want you to become part of her entourage, or whatever it is, and get across to J.J. that he is being used.”

  “Someone like me?” Trey asked with raised eyebrows.

  “I suppose you would be considered handsome by most females. You’re tall, built good, have good hair, much like J.J.’s except not as deeply ebony, and, according to one of the partners here—I believe Gavin said it was Ms. McClary—you have compelling, sexy eyes.”

  Trey couldn’t help a small chuckle as he made a mental note to thank Joyce. He did not, however, comment on the doctor’s observation of him. “And in your opinion, your son is being used in what way?”

  “Sexually, of course! J.J. has inherited his good looks from me plus his, shall we say, more than adequate physicality. But unfortunately he inherited his mother’s weak will. So he is no match for this conniving woman. She obviously surrounds herself with handsome and virile young men. I know you see my point now that I have been specific, right?”

  “Not really.”

  Ignoring his negative remark, Dr. Romero raked him up and down once more with a critical eye. “Although you are a bit older than I would have preferred, or that she might prefer, you will do, I suppose. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-seven.”

  “Gavin and I discussed the fact that you probably possess the sex appeal to gain this wanton woman’s attention. Thereby you can utilize your ‘charms’ to gain an insight into her personal life, thus exposing her flighty disposition and obvious faults to my son. Make him realize he is simply being used to—ah—service her. I failed to reason with him. I told him I would give him six months to come to his senses, but I only said that to appease him and throw that woman off guard until I could come up with a solid plan to retrieve him.”

  Trey bit back what he wanted to say, knowing he was being insulted. It was the first time someone had more or less called him a man whore. But he kept that thought to himself as Dr. Romero continued.

  “Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Cameron. I will not allow this sexual deviant to warp my son’s brilliant future, nor will I continue to tolerate this disgrace he is bringing down on us. I will save him from himself.

  “Now keeping all that I have told you in mind, I want whatever dirt you can dig up on that odious woman to use as leverage in this situation. Even if you have to manufacture something. Do it. Understand? Do I make myself clear?”

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Dr. Romero. That is something I won’t do. I do not manufacture evidence against people. I only compile evidence and present it, and that’s all. It seems to me that your son might simply need time to decide what he wants to do with his life. You say you gave him six months. If you wait that long, he’ll probably decide to go back to college or come home on his own. Maybe you should give him that space.”

  Dr. Romero made a disgusted noise as he shifted angrily on the chair.

  “He doesn't know what he wants, but I know what he should do! I won’t have him throwing away six months of his life. The Romero men have always been doctors. J.J. will also be a doctor. He will continue to uphold the Romero tradition.

  “What you need to do is get him away from that psychiatrist in any way necessary, and back here where he belongs. After that, I will handle him. He might be too old to whip, but I can financially whip him to the point where he either submits or is turned out in the world destitute. J.J. has always lived a life of privilege. He won’t be able to survive in a world where he has to scrounge to live. Do you understand?”

  Trey bristled at the man’s furious threat, his barely restrained violent and angry bringing back a stab of childhood memories, which he squelched as he asked, “So this woman is a psychiatrist?”

  Scoffing, Dr. Romero said, “Yes, a pseudo doctor who finds it amusing to toy with men’s emotions, no doubt. Giving J.J. her pool house to live in was just an excuse to keep him close I believe, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’s used hypnosis on J.J. He is that weak-willed.”

  Again, Trey had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘you sure don’t think much of your own son, do you’ as Dr. Romero said, “There is definitely more going on in that mansion of hers than meets the eye, I can assure you. Otherwise, why would four grown men be lounging naked in a Jacuzzi? It seems they all have the run of her house.

  “Besides, no son of mine could possibly be content being someone’s pool boy! It’s preposterous. I want to know what is really happening there. I want to know every detail of that woman’s life. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “You
’ve asked me that twice, as though you think I’m dense. I assure you I understand,” Trey said tersely.

  What kept him from telling the man off was that niggling voice in his head, reminding him Dr. Romero was a personal friend of Gavin Johnson’s. And since he and Johnson were at such odds with each other already, he didn’t need this incident to rock the boat any more.

  “Money is no object. Spend whatever it takes to get the job done. But of course I will expect a full and accurate accounting.”

  “Of course. I’ll do what I can.”

  Dr. Romero stood and turned toward the door without even offering his hand as a thank you.

  Trey watched him go, thinking, makes sense to me that Gavin Johnson would be a friend to this kind of jerk.

  Jerks of a feather!

  CHAPTER 11

  Nashville International Airport—Monday evening

  Trey extracted his laptop and carry-on bag from the overhead bin and filed out of the plane behind the other passengers. As he made his way through the Nashville terminal to the baggage carousel to retrieve his luggage, Trey caught the eye of a person he recognized as being a well-known country music star.

  He wasn’t into country music that much, preferring easy-listening rock, but this was a face he had seen numerous times on the Today show and the Tonight show, so he was surprised the man wasn’t being mobbed, like he had seen celebrities being mobbed in Hollywood. But instead, he was just blending in with the crowd. Although several people obviously recognized him, no one made an effort to approach him.

  If that polite attitude is apropos to the laid-back caliber of people in Nashville, I’m going to like it here, Trey decided as he leaned against a column in the baggage area, waiting for the luggage to roll around.

  He was unaware that he, like the country music star, had also caught the eye of every female between the ages of fifteen and fifty.

  If hormones could have a voice, they would have been singing his praises at that moment. There was a lot of covert flirting going on, with the singular thought among the women of jumping his bones if Trey so much as obliged with a returning smile. But he didn’t even notice. He remained lost in thought while fantasies among the women ran rampant.

  Was he a movie star just in from Hollywood? One of the many who seemed to be migrating lately to Nashville? Was he a model?

  Trey fit the build of both, with his broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, his thick, black, slightly longer than usual hair, and his striking sky-blue eyes.

  Completely oblivious to the attention he was attracting, Trey was contemplating the right approach to the problem of insinuating his way into Kayla Saradon’s life. That scenario had been uppermost on his mind the entire flight from San Antonio.

  All the information he had on her, he’d gotten from the Internet. Everything I’ve found out is sketchy at best. Kayla Quinlan Saradon is successful, rich both in her own right and through inheritance. She’s an anomaly, if you are of the mind that one woman couldn’t possess everything because she seems to, being rich, attractive, and brainy.

  In his research Trey had discovered that Kayla had written numerous articles carried in the better magazines and journals on mental health issues. But the one thing that had caught his attention immediately was the fact that Kayla Saradon had been asked on several talk shows but had always declined, stating it wasn’t her cup of tea and just did not fit in with her schedule.

  So, one point in her favor is that she isn’t a camera hog. And she could be, with her looks. But what are her other points? Good and bad.

  He smiled when he remembered how Dr. Romero had said he believed she had hypnotized his son. He was pretty sure, if the truth be told, that the kid was sick of his domineering father and had found a soft touch in the lady. If anything, J.J. is probably using her.

  Being her pool boy and living in her pool house is something a kid would do if he just wanted to zone out and take the time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life at his leisure. And if he has full run of a mansion, well, hell, what kid wouldn’t want that?

  Just in the short time they had talked, Trey had decided he would opt for pool boy himself over living with Carlos Romero. But I have a job to do, so I’ll put my dislike for the man aside and do it. How to do it, though—that’s the question.

  I could make an appointment and fake some kind of mental disorder, but then I’d be limited to a professional/patient relationship and I don’t want that. She’d never open up to me then. Got to meet her some other way.

  He had already reserved a room at Nashville’s downtown Sheridan Hotel, which, according to MapQuest, was fairly close to Saradon’s office.

  Maybe, if I observe her long enough, I can manage to meet her socially. Since she’s single, I assume she’ll eat out occasionally or have an after-hours drink with her friends. So an accidental meeting wouldn’t be that farfetched.

  And there were always her associates he could buddy up to and get info from, he reasoned, as soon as he discovered who they were. To that end, Trey hoped she had her suite of offices in a building that housed several other offices and therefore people with whom she hobnobbed.

  His growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since breakfast. With his mind suddenly on food, Trey hoped Kayla Saradon liked expensive menus, since he was on an unlimited budget and would really enjoy a choice prime rib at whatever fancy restaurant she might choose on Romero’s tab.

  Hell, even if she didn’t, he could pretend she did and he followed her there. Dr. Romero will never know the difference. With an exhaled breath, Trey silently nixed that idea. His conscience wouldn’t let him do that. He had never padded a bill in his career and he wasn’t about to start now, not even to stick it to a creep like Romero.

  His bag rolling into sight brought Trey back to the present. He tucked his laptop satchel under his arm and snagged the larger bag, extended the pull, then headed for the car rental booth, to the disappointment of the ladies who had failed to catch his eye.

  On the ride to the Sheridan Hotel, Trey continued to try and think of the best way of meeting Kayla Saradon. Then it dawned on him. He could pretend to be a reporter from one of the major health magazines, wanting to do a story on her.

  What woman can resist that kind of professional flattery?

  He had brought several false IDs with him, just in case. Having decided to use the alias Devon Walker, he phoned the office and told the secretary that if she got a call on his private line, which only she was authorized to answer when he was away, she was to verify it was Devon Walker’s office and he was a freelance reporter with Your Health Today magazine.

  “Sounds like an interesting case you’re on, Trey.”

  “It could turn out to be, Sarah. So don’t blow it for me.”

  “I’ll be the soul of discretion, Mr. Walker.”

  “You’re a peach.”

  “So you’ve said before. Anytime you wanta take a juicy nibble, let me know,” she teased.

  Trey laughed. They had that semi-sexual running joke between them, Sarah being several years older than he but young enough to remember the titillation of innocent flirting, and with a sometimes ribald sense of humor much needed in the staid atmosphere of M. J. and L.

  “I’ll definitely keep that in mind, gorgeous.”

  He hung up as he proceeded to the hotel’s underground parking. All the parking spaces near the elevators on the main parking level were taken, so he had to park at the lower level, at the end toward the back.

  Cursing his luck, Trey retrieved his luggage from the trunk. Shouldering the laptop satchel strap, he gripped the carry-on with his left hand as he extended the pull handle of the heavier piece of luggage with his right. With a weary sigh, he began the long trek toward the elevator.

  CHAPTER 12

  Tuesday morning—The meeting

  Kayla relaxed in her chair, smiling to herself, remembering her wonderful night with Harm—the massage, the fantastic
foreplay, the slow and tantalizing sex that had left her comfortably drained and completely satisfied. But now to the order of the day. With a sigh, she sat up straighter and buzzed her secretary.

  “Send in my first appointment please, Amelia.”

  “She hasn’t arrived yet, Doctor. But there is someone here to see you. A reporter. A Mr. Devon Walker, from Your Health Today magazine. Shall I show him in?”

  “I wasn’t expecting a reporter.”

  “He said he knows he doesn’t have an appointment, but would you please just give him a moment?”

  “All right, send him in.”

  Trey entered, turning to thank the secretary before she closed the door. He stood, politely waiting for an invitation to sit from Kayla Saradon. While he waited, and their eyes held, Trey got his first impression of the woman. And it was quite an impression.

  She was nothing like what he’d imagined—not hard or gritty or calculating. She was, in fact, the total opposite. Soft, feminine, and yet exuding a subtle strength that he concluded probably put her patients at ease. It was obvious to him she was determined to disguise her natural beauty with the severe hairdo and the loosely fitted suit. But she hadn’t succeeded. He was shocked at the way she seemed to emanate sensuality. The kind that is so deeply engrained, it can’t be muted, no matter the effort.

  Kayla Saradon was, to say the least, the most striking woman he had seen in a long time, with the most compelling green eyes that she now turned on him in an inquisitive stare.

  Trey immediately understood the pull she might influence over a nineteen-year-old boy, if indeed she had.

  Hell, I feel it myself. I’d be her pool boy if she asked.

  Out loud he said, “I appreciate your taking the time to see me, Dr. Saradon.”

  “I don’t have that much time, I’m afraid. Won’t you be seated, Mr. Walker?”

  He sat down across from her desk, offering a smile, which she returned, but just barely.