Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion)

by Bobbi Cole Meyer

  “You say you’re from Your Health Today?”

  “Yes. I’d like to do a story on you.”

  “On me? Or my work?”

  “Actually, on you personally. The woman behind the work, so to speak.”

  “And do you have a business card, Mr. Walker?”

  “Certainly.”

  Trey handed her one of his bogus cards and watched her eye it critically before lifting those astonishing eyes back to him.

  “Sorry to tell you this, but I don’t do personal interviews of that sort, Mr. Walker. By that I mean I do not wish my personal life to be an issue when other people’s mental health should be. I consider myself simply a conduit for my patients.”

  “I understand. That’s admirable of you. But your admirers would like to get to know the famous Dr. Saradon in a personal way.”

  “Famous? I hardly think that’s the case. I certainly don’t warrant that kind of attention, nor do I wish it. I consider the work I do important, and that is what I would like to advertise—for want of a better word. Not myself.”

  Trey could feel the personal interview angle slipping downhill fast. He decided to change tactics. “I’ll be honest with you, Dr. Saradon.”

  With raised eyebrows, she said pithily, “That would be nice. What have you not been honest about, Mr. Walker?”

  Trey was impressed with the way she cut to the chase. He decided she was probably an excellent psychiatrist. “It isn’t that I haven’t been honest exactly, I just haven’t been as forthcoming as I suppose I should have been.”

  “You definitely have my attention. Proceed.”

  “You see, I’m a freelance reporter and this is my first assignment with Your Health Today, a kind of test if you will, and if I don’t get some kind of personal interview, I’m afraid any future assignments will be out of the question. I hate sounding needy, but I sure would appreciate some kind of literary bone tossed my way.”

  “I see. Well, I certainly don’t wish you to lose your connection there, Mr. Walker. But other than what I’m sure you already know, statistically speaking, because I’m sure you’ve done your homework, I don’t know what I can tell you.”

  “Just to be able to quote you would help—like on your marital status or possible marriage plans for the future. Whether or not you’d like to have children one day. Or your long-range goals in terms of your profession. Whether or not you’ve always lived in Nashville or have plans to move later, much later, when you retire.”

  “You seem to have covered every aspect of exactly what I do not care to share, Mr. Walker, other than the obvious. I am not married and never have been. I love what I do, helping people to sort out the difficulties in their lives, and shall continue to do so until I do retire, which I do not foresee in the near future. I have no plans to move away from Nashville, which has always been my home.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I think I answered all your questions.”

  “Are you involved in a relationship now?”

  “That’s too personal, Mr. Walker.”

  “Sorry. It’s just—well—you are such a beautiful woman, I can’t believe some guy hasn’t claimed you as his own.”

  “Claimed me?” she asked, sounding incensed.

  Trey, you fool! Bad choice of words.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Trey felt tongue-tied in a woman’s presence. Kayla Saradon was impressively overpowering, more so than any woman he had ever known. He couldn’t get over those mesmerizing green eyes that were, in this moment, shooting laser beams at him, definitely cutting him down to size.

  “I—ah—I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he stammered, trying to erase the irritated frown from her face.

  “How did you mean it? I am not and never will be some man’s property, to be claimed, Mr. Walker! Now there is a quote you can use.”

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry. Guess I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

  Think fool! How can I rectify this?

  “I—ah—am used to writing fill-in articles and, like I said, this is my first interview. Probably my last, if you report my gross faux pas, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  Though it went against his grain, Trey tried to sound contrite and pitiful, swallowing hard as though he were seeing his future go down the drain. He watched her expression change from annoyance to amusement. Finally a smile broke through.

  And damn, what a smile! God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles.

  “Relax Mr. Walker. I don’t bite.”

  But you can if you want to, Trey thought as he returned the smile sheepishly. In fact, I would insist on it, if you gave me the chance.

  “I’m obviously a lousy interviewer.”

  “Everyone is nervous the first day on the job, which is what a first interview is like. I understand, and I’d like to apologize for being so abrupt.”

  “Maybe we could start over. You could call me Devon instead of Mr. Walker.”

  She nodded. “All right, Devon. And you may call me Kayla. So far as the personal interview goes, I really don’t have any more time this morning. I’m sure my appointment is about to arrive, or probably already has.”

  “Perhaps we could meet after work for a drink and a more relaxed conversation?” Trey asked, remembering to try and look pathetically hopeful.

  “I’m afraid I can’t this afternoon. Or any afternoon this week. Perhaps we could arrange to meet briefly on Saturday. Saturday is more or less a free day for me. Are you staying nearby?”

  “At the downtown Sheridan.”

  “Can you stay in town that long, or are you on a deadline and have to rush back?”

  “I can stay.”

  “Good. Shall we meet Saturday afternoon then, at the Sheridan?”

  “That would be perfect. We could have lunch and talk.”

  “If you’ll leave me your room number, I’ll ring you when I arrive and we can meet in the lobby. How does that sound? It will probably be around one o’clock.”

  “Sounds perfect. Thank you for giving me another chance—Kayla,” Trey hesitated over her first name, as though he was doubtful of using it and thankful she had agreed to allow him that privilege.

  Again, she blessed him with that radiant smile as he wrote his room number down, handed it to her, then stood and extended his hand.

  She put her much smaller one in it, and Trey was amazed that he felt like he’d been branded. That hot touch skittered all the way down to his crotch and threatened to embarrass him. He suddenly had to fight the urge to pull her across the space that separated them and taste those luscious lips. So he made a hasty exit.

  Kayla Saradon is definitely a woman to be reckoned with. I can only imagine how effective she is with her patients. The question is, how effective is she with nineteen-year-old J.J. Romero?

  As he left her office, Trey exhaled a deep breath, silently exclaiming, man, she is something else. He briefly entertained the thought of trying to get close to her secretary, but she gave him only a cursory glance before returning to her work. He concluded she wouldn’t be receptive to his questioning her, so he ruled that avenue out.

  He wondered if maybe some of the other tenants in the building would know her enough to want to share opinions. But how to go about asking without arousing suspicion, that was the key.

  As he exited the building, he saw a professionally dressed, middle-aged woman leaning against the side of the building near the entrance, looking bored and smoking a cigarette. She held a small, portable ashtray for her ashes.

  Smiling he said, “Aggravating when you work in a no-smoking building, huh?”

  She gave him a quick once-over before answering, “Sure is. Pretty soon they’ll probably ban smoking on the outside, too.”

  “Say, ah, don’t you work for the dentist on the second floor?” He asked, taking a stab in the dark that there even was a dentist in the building.

  “No. I work for the neurologist, Dr. Robinson, on t
he first floor.”

  Trey remembered seeing the sign. “Oh, sorry. Your office is right across the hall from Dr. Saradon’s then.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you know her? She is really something, isn’t she?”

  The woman laughed. “Yeah, she is that.”

  “By the way, I’m Devon Walker, and I’m here to do an article about her. I didn’t expect her to be so—well—beautiful. And the fact that she’s single, that’s icing on the cake.”

  Again, the woman laughed as she shook his extended hand. “Mindy Carson.”

  Shaking her head, she took a long draw on the cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke, then said, “Sorry to burst your bubble, Devon, but you aren’t her type. And that is truly her loss,” she added flirtatiously as she let her eyes take a long walk down his body and back to his face.

  “Thank you, Mindy. But who is her type?”

  She shrugged, and Trey could see she was having second thoughts about saying anything else. He turned on the charm, smiling, leaning closer to say in a conspiratorial tone, “Whatever you say is between us. I would appreciate a heads-up.”

  “I don’t like to spread rumors,” she said in that tone that indicated she was dying to do just that, “but the talk is Kayla Saradon doesn’t like men, not even one as handsome as you, if you know what I mean.”

  That shocked Trey. It was also something he did not believe.

  “Wow. Thanks for the warning. Too bad.”

  “Bet every guy who meets her thinks he has a shot. Until she freezes him out. Fact is nobody ever sees her out with a guy. She pretty much keeps to herself. Occasionally she’ll go for after-hours drinks at the Red Carpet Bar and Lounge with some of us girls, but that is very rare. She usually makes a beeline for home after work. She’s definitely a workaholic.”

  “Where is the Red Carpet Bar and Lounge?”

  “It’s on West End. Kind of a trendy place. I’ve only been there a couple of times.”

  “Well, thank you for the information, Mindy. You’ve been a great help.”

  “You’re welcome, Devon. Say, are you going to the Red Carpet later, by any chance?

  “Not today. But maybe I’ll see you there before I leave town.”

  “I hope so.”

  He gave her his brightest smile. “Me, too.”

  As he walked away, he was mulling over what she’d said.

  There is no way Kayla Saradon is a lesbian. I don’t believe that. But if it were true, wouldn’t that be a slap in Dr. Romero’s face? I could tell him that not only was she not after his son, she isn’t even wired to want him.

  Trey chuckled to himself, thinking that it would almost be worth it if it were true, just to see Romero’s expression when he relayed that tidbit. But not quite. Trey suddenly did not want that to be true. A woman with a body as good as Kayla Saradon’s and with those full, kissable lips, was too good a fit for a man.

  He got a heated flash in his groin just thinking about how she might be in bed. Or out of bed. On her desk. On the floor. He imagined his suddenly hard cock sliding in and out of her wet channel as those green eyes burned into his and his body responded with the blood rushing to engorge his penis.

  Trey mentally chastised himself. Damn! Get a grip! She’s your assignment. She’s off limits, no matter her sexual orientation.

  His mind accepted that. But his libido was a different thing altogether.

  CHAPTER 13

  Conflicting thoughts—Possibilities

  As soon as Trey had left her office, Kayla called the number on the card he’d given her. After the secretary verified Devon Walker was indeed a freelance writer working currently on assignment with Your Health Today, Kayla sat thinking about him and anticipating their scheduled meeting on Saturday.

  He is definitely easy on the eye. Bet he’s a tiger in bed. Oh, stop it, Saradon! Kayla berated herself.

  You have your quota of partners, and they’re all great. You do not want to cheat on them, not even with a man as obviously virile as Devon Walker. Okay, so he makes me wet and hot! He’s probably not half as good as you think he is.

  She made a concentrated effort to put him out of her mind, yet couldn’t, and on the drive home, after another day of barely tuning in to her patients’ grievances, Kayla found her thoughts dominated by Devon Walker. There was something about the way he had looked at her that kept coming back to mind. A sexual spark had definitely passed between them that had aroused her curiosity, striking a chord so deep within her psyche that it continued to resonate.

  Other than her young Latin lover, J.J., Kayla silently admitted she had never seen a more sensual man than Devon Walker. Plus, he had that weathered, “I’ve-been-rode-hard-and-put-away-wet-but-am-still-up-for-bucking” look.

  The fact that he had lived hard was evident in the hard set of his mouth, the crinkly lines bracketing his eyes, and the seemingly innate knowledge in his penetrating gaze. The only color that came to mind to describe his eyes was electric blue. Devon Walker definitely looked like a man who had seen more than his share of the bad side of humanity, but somehow was still clinging to an optimistic thread.

  But what made him even more appealing was the fact that, much the same as J.J., Devon Walker seemed unaware of how he affected the opposite sex.

  I’m sure it isn’t just me who’s responded to him that way. Wonder if he’s got someone already? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  She was still wondering what kind of lover Devon would be as she pulled into her driveway. Would he be as fantastic in bed as J.J.? Maybe he could even teach her some things. She laughed to herself with that thought.

  But I doubt it.

  Yet the thought solicited a wet seepage between her legs as Kayla involuntarily tightened her abdominal muscles in fanciful anticipation.

  She realized that she should have asked a few questions of her own. Like was he married, even though she didn’t see a wedding ring? Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Some men just didn’t wear rings.

  But there hadn’t been an opening for that. At least none that would have seemed appropriate. Yet he was interested in me, I could tell, and not just for an article. I wonder what he would think about being a fifth partner.

  Kayla shook her head at her incredulous runaway train of thought. What makes me think Devon Walker would be amendable to polyandry, or that he would be willing to share love with the other men in my life—even if I got up the nerve to ask?

  Something told her, some deep-seated gut feeling, that Devon Walker wasn’t a man who would be able to share intimacy. Ten to one he was a one-on-one, you’re-mine kind of guy. Kayla suddenly recalled his remark about a man claiming her. Yes, she felt certain, Devon Walker would be that kind of man, dominant and passionately unyielding.

  Another thing she’d be willing to bet was true was that he would be fantastic in bed. Maybe so good, I wouldn’t need any others.

  That fleeting thought shocked her.

  Now where the hell did that come from? You know you decided years ago that no one man is ever going to be that good. Besides, Devon Walker probably has a dick the size of a peanut! Of course, he did have those marvelously large, calloused hands….

  Kayla mentally checked herself, trying to convince herself she didn’t want to know, that it didn’t matter. But her silent denials didn’t negate the fact that she did want to know, and it did matter. It was the first time in a long time Kayla had felt this drawn to someone. She had found all of her partners sexually attractive and had wanted them all—still did—but she had never felt this almost indescribable magnetic pull that she felt for this stranger, Devon.

  Well, I have four days to tone down my hormones before our Saturday meeting.

  As she turned off the ignition, Kayla was both excited and apprehensive about that meeting. She tried to put her mind on her forthcoming night with Lee, telling herself it would be soothing and sexually satisfying, as always. Yet try as she would to dwell on that, her thoughts kept going
back to the tall, handsome, and sexually dynamic reporter who had seemed to be an amalgamation of shyness, anxiousness, and lack of professional courage. She wanted to help him overcome all those things. And so much more.

  Exiting the vehicle and heading for the door, Kayla willed her mind to think only of her four partners waiting inside. They were all wonderful. And she loved them.

  I have the perfect life. But would it be better with Devon Walker in it?

  Feeling disloyal and frustrated, she kissed her men as they met her in the usual way, taking her briefcase, her shoes, and her jacket.

  Only Harm seemed to notice her preoccupation as he leaned to kiss her hello.

  “Another hard day, my love?”

  Kayla shrugged. “An interesting day, to say the least.”

  * * *

  Across town, in the lounge area of the Sheridan, as Kayla was being greeted at home, Trey sipped his Johnny Walker Black scotch, his thoughts as hotly focused on her as hers were on him. He wondered what she was doing at that moment. He had already been to the Red Carpet Lounge, asking around, hoping someone would remember her and be able to shed some light on her personality and preferences, but no one did. The lady remained a mystery. One he was determined to solve.

  He had decided his next step might be talking to the men Romero had said were her tenants. But he would wait until after his meeting with Kayla for that. In the meantime, he had decided he would keep sniffing around possible associates. Something told him that wasn’t going to pan out, either. The online information about her hadn’t really given him what he needed, so he made a mental note to have the office do a background check, including financial information and credit card spending profile, and email him the particulars later.

  A lot is riding on my meeting with her on Saturday.

  Though he was far from being egotistical when it came to his ability to attract the opposite sex, Trey had gotten the distinct impression that Kayla found him as intriguing as he’d found her.

  Maybe it was my “sorry for being an idiot” act that had garnered her pity. But damn, I don’t want her pity. I want her!