No More Playas

by Brenda Jackson

  8

  Asia

  “You might think Lance Montgomery is an ass, but he certainly has good taste when it comes to flowers. They are simply beautiful.”

  “Don’t go there with me, Claire,” Asia said harshly. Moments ago, a dozen of the most beautiful roses she had ever seen arrived at her apartment, and the card that had accompanied the arrangement hadn’t been much better. It had simply said,“It was meant for us to be together.”

  She had crushed the card in her hand, thinking “the damn nerve of that man.” She was engaged to Sean, but that hadn’t stopped Lance from kissing her last night or sending her flowers today! The thought of his boldness—as well as his lack of respect for Sean’s position in her life—pushed Asia to mindless fury.

  “I gather you’re upset.”

  “Of course I’m upset,” Asia snapped, and then quickly apologized.

  “And why are you angry? I think it’s flattering that he’s showing interest in you.”

  Asia’s eyes blazed. “There is nothing flattering about it. What he’s doing is merely playing a game, and I don’t want any part of it,” she shot out angrily.

  Claire wasn’t fully convinced that the doctor was only playing a game with her sister. She had watched Lance’s reaction to Asia just like she had watched Asia’s reaction to him. She knew of his reputation, but for some reason, as hard as it was to believe, she felt he truly cared for Asia. It had been there in his eyes when he looked at her. It was too bad that Asia refused to see it. “Are you sure he’s playing a game, Asia?”

  “Of course he is! He doesn’t want me—he just doesn’t want Sean to have me. He’s obsessed with getting whatever he thinks he can’t have. And do you know what I find the most infuriating about all of this?”

  “No, what?”

  “That in his warped mind he actually believes he has every right to me. He refuses to accept Sean’s place in my future.”

  Claire took a sip of her coffee. She and Dr. Montgomery definitely had something in common there. She asked, “So, what are you planning to do?”

  “Ignore him, his flowers, and his game. If he wants to waste his time by pursuing an unattainable goal, then that’s his business. I, for one, refuse to be a party to it.” Asia dropped the flowers, vase and all, into the garbage. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a book to finish.” She walked angrily out of the room.

  Claire shook her head as she went over to the garbage and retrieved the flowers. No matter what Asia said, they were too beautiful to be ignored, and if her sister didn’t want to enjoy them, she certainly would.

  She released a throaty chuckle as she placed the vase of flowers back on the table.

  Dr. Montgomery had his work cut out for him, and Claire couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

  9

  Carrie and Connor

  Connor stood in the middle of his office and stared through the plate glass window. His attention had been captured by a woman who was getting out of her car. He hoped like hell that she wasn’t Carrie Montgomery.

  Geez, that was all he needed: a client who was definitely catching his eye. He felt a stirring in his gut that he didn’t want to feel. She was young, probably no older than twenty-one, and it was apparent the below-thirty-degree weather wasn’t affecting her much. Although she had on a leather jacket, she was wearing a midriff shirt emblazoned with the words BORN TO BE WILD. His gaze then traced the planes of her flat stomach and spotted the small ring that was dangling from her navel. That short jean skirt she was wearing—pretty damn enticing, since it showed off thighs that were meant for riding and a gorgeous pair of legs. The short leather boots only added to the tempting package.

  A rush of lust surged through his body when images of him and this woman getting wild together in a number of wickedly sordid ways began playing in his mind. He would love to see just how wild she could get. “Down, Mr. P,” he muttered to that part of him that was pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. “You know when it comes to clients that I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  When it became apparent the woman was headed toward the doors of CCB Investigators and not the Hallmark shop next door, he decided to get his body parts under control before coming out of his office.

  Carrie studied the painted sign on the door of CCB Investigators. She had told Pops she was driving into Chicago to do some shopping and to visit Lance—which she fully intended to do after her meeting with one of the investigators.

  As soon as she opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the building, a deep male voice stopped her in her tracks. “Carrie Montgomery?”

  She caught sight of a tall, dark, and handsome man dressed in a pair of jeans and collared shirt. His facial features were tough- looking yet compelling and his skin was the color of semi-dark chocolate. He had intense eyes beneath perfectly slanted eyebrows, day-old stubble over a rugged sexy jaw. Those lips could probably kiss a woman senseless. He was well over six feet tall, and he had a muscular build.

  She stepped back, tilted her head, and decided he definitely deserved a second glance. Placing her hands on her hips, she asked cockily. “Who wants to know?”

  He came farther into the room, and she almost wished he hadn’t done that. The closer he got, the better he looked. “I do,” he said, studying her intently. “My name is Connor Hargrove, and we have a ten-o’clock appointment.”

  Despite herself, Carrie couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in her midsection. She couldn’t remember the last time a male’s presence had affected her this much. The man staring back at her had eyes that were dark as midnight, and a mouth that was tempting as chocolate. Then there was the lean line of his jaw and the hint of a cleft in his chin.

  She thought she actually felt her breasts swell in the process. “Well, Connor Hargrove, yes, I am Carrie Montgomery.”

  “Then I suggest we go into my office and get down to business.” He turned to walk off, dropping a smile on her first.

  In just that short span of time, she had felt it—a jolt of static electricity that had flowed between them. There was no way he could not have felt it, as well. Long ago she had decided that she didn’t trust men, and frankly didn’t like them either— but there had to be a reason why a current of warm air was fanning around her navel and making goose bumps form all over her skin.

  His footsteps slowed, and he glanced around. She swore she saw his eyes darken to an outrageously erotic black as he looked at her. “Are you coming?”

  Carrie flushed. She actually wished that she was coming, literally, with this man buried deep inside of her. She gasped inwardly, not believing she had thought such a thing. But she had. She took a step back.

  “No, I’ve changed my mind. Forget the appointment.”

  She turned to leave, but he quickly crossed the distance separating them and blocked the door. “What the hell are you afraid of?” he snapped. “If you’re being blackmailed, then I’m the least of your worries.”

  Carrie doubted it. “Look, you’re probably a good investigator and all, but I don’t think this is going to work.” His mouth twitched into another smile, and at that moment she knew he understood her dilemma.Their dilemma.

  “Will it make you feel better to know that I don’t do clients?” he asked huskily.

  She wasn’t all that sure his statement calmed her nerves or gave her the assurance she needed. “Only if it makes you feel better to know that I don’t do men.” When his brow lifted, she rolled her eyes before saying. “And no, I don’t do women either.”

  A curious frown stole into his face. “And why don’t you do men?”

  Fair question, she thought, considering what she’d just told him. “What I mean is, other than my father and my three brothers, I don’t trust men.”

  His face took on a serious expression. “If I take your case, you’ll have to trust me.”

  Carrie lifted her chin. “I will, up to a point.”

  “Fine. Now we understand each other, s
o will you give me a chance and try me?”

  Carrie felt a lump in her throat. That was her problem. The man standing before her was a total stranger, but for a reason she couldn’t explain, she did want to try him. . . . Her mind filled with a lot of creative ways and positions: back, front, sideways, the wall, the table, floor . . . You name it, and she would certainly like to try it.

  “Ms. Montgomery?”

  She sighed. “I prefer that you call me Carrie, and yes, I will try you, Connor Hargrove.”

  Once they were seated in his office on either side of his desk, he said, “Now how about if you start from the beginning.”

  Carrie had no intentions of going that far back. Two things she heavily guarded were her privacy and her past. Besides, he didn’t need to know the whole story. “I received this envelope in the mail two weeks ago. It had pictures in it.”

  He gave her a curious look. “What kind of pictures?”

  She looked outside the huge window in his office. “Pictures of me and a man together,” she said softly.

  Connor leaned back in his chair, slowly understanding. “And now someone is threatening to give the pictures to your fiance?”

  “No, I don’t have a fiancé. I told you—I don’t do men, so I certainly wouldn’t be engaged to one.”

  “Sorry. My mistake.”

  “The person threatened to put them on the Internet unless I pay up.”

  “How much are they asking for?”

  “They haven’t said yet. It was signed ‘an old friend,’ and that he would keep in touch.”

  Connor nodded. “And what makes you think it’s a he? You don’t think you have any girlfriends who may have turned on you and resorted to blackmail?”

  Carrie slowly shook her head. Most of her life she had spent as a runaway, not befriending anyone. The only female she had befriended was an older girl named Serena, but she had died on the streets. “No, just like I don’t trust men I never trusted women either. I’m pretty much a loner.”

  “What about your family?” He remembered her mentioning something about three brothers earlier and saw the caution that lit her eyes with his question.

  “What about them?” she asked, glaring at him.

  “Evidently the person who is trying to get money out of you knows that you’re willing to protect someone from seeing those pictures.”

  “Yes, my brothers. They are pretty well known nationally in their chosen fields. Two are medical specialists, and one is a psychologist.” And that was as much as she would tell him about her brothers.

  Connor said, “Look, if you want me to help you, you’re going to have to tell me all I want to know. Otherwise, you might as well walk out of the door and invite these brothers of yours over to your place for the Internet viewing, or be prepared to pay this person who’s trying to extort money out of you whatever amount he wants. I’m an ex-cop, and my goal will be to use whatever resources and connections I have to stop him or her before he causes damage.”

  Carrie inhaled deeply. He was right. The only way he could help her was if she told him everything he needed to know. More than anything, she wanted Simon stopped before her brothers found out about him and what he’d done to her years ago and what he was trying to do even now.

  “I believe the person who is trying to get money out of me is the man in the picture with me, and I want you to do whatever you can to stop him.”

  Connor nodded. “I need to see the photographs he sent as well as the extortion letter.”

  Carrie hesitated for a moment before pulling the envelope from her canvas tote bag. She handed it to him and then slowly held her breath when he opened the envelope and dumped out the contents onto his desk.

  “Holy shit...”

  Those were the only words Connor could say as he looked at the photos that had come tumbling out. He recognized the little girl immediately, since she was merely a younger version of the young woman sitting across from him. She didn’t look any more than seven or eight years old then. She had always been a beauty, and the thought that some bastard had . . .

  He forced himself to look away from the pictures and look at Carrie. His stomach knotted when he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Somehow he could actually feel her pain, and, for the first time in his life, two emotions that he’d never shared with any woman, tenderness and a feeling of protectiveness, rammed through him. “How old were you?” he asked quietly. Damn, she’d been just a child, but someone had placed her in the hands of a pervert. How could anyone have done something so cruel?

  She swiped at her wet cheek and said softly, “I was eight.”

  “And who is this bastard? You said his name is Simon?”

  Carrie swallowed, searching for composure. “Yes, Simon Anderson. He was my mother’s boyfriend at the time. While she was somewhere getting high, he was supposed to be taking care of me.”

  Connor’s heart broke at the abuse she had endured. No child, no matter the age, should have gone through what Miss Montgomery had gone through. Damn, no wonder she didn’t trust men.

  “He is one stupid son of a bitch for sending these to you now. Evidently, he doesn’t know that he can be prosecuted on these alone. In the state of Indiana, there is no statute of limitations on crimes done to a minor.”

  “He was never a smart man.”

  And he would be a damn unlucky one now that Connor was handling the case. He would make sure the bastard got what he deserved. “I will find him, Carrie,” he said, meaning every word.

  Carrie believed him. “And there’s someone else I want you to find, as well.”

  Connor raised his eyebrow. “Who?”

  “My mother. She’s still out there somewhere, if she’s still alive. She deserted my father and three brothers when I was barely six weeks old, running off with me and her lover to California. I can’t remember a lot of the time before Simon, but not once did she tell me I had a family living in Indiana. In fact, she led me to believe I was the only child. One night I decided to run away. I managed to dodge the authorities, and sometimes I didn’t and I was sent to live in foster homes.”

  She tossed her hair back from her face and said, “I hated the foster care system. Some people took you in because they got paid every month for putting up with you. I didn’t make friends or any lasting relationships. When I was thirteen, I ran away again and lived on the streets until my brothers’ private investigators found me.”

  “How old were you when you ran away the first time?”

  “A little over ten.”

  Connor couldn’t imagine a kid that young fending for herself on the streets of L.A. “How old were you when your brothers found you?”

  “I thought I was eighteen, but my birth certificate said I was only sixteen. Somehow while I was on the run, I lost track of time. Birthdays didn’t mean a lot to me then.”

  Connor could understand why. He came around the desk when Carrie stood. “If your mother is still alive, then I’ll find her, as well. I understand your need to bury the past, get beyond it, and I’m personally going to make this Simon regret the day he ever laid a hand on you.”

  Carrie’s throat tightened with emotion. She was stunned by his anger. “Thank you.” She took a single step back, suddenly needing space between them. “I’d better be going.”

  “All right, but we’ll need to meet again soon. I’ll need to know the last known address for your mother and Simon, the city where you were staying, schools you had been attending . . . someplace where I can began my search.” He reached out and picked up his Palm off his desk and checked it. “Is there a way for us to meet again next Tuesday?”

  “All right. I’m in town visiting my father, so us getting together to meet won’t be a problem.”

  “Good. How about at noon? And if you’re hungry, we can always do a change of atmosphere and discuss things over lunch.” He decided to add. “It will be strictly business.”

  “No thanks,” Carrie said.

  Connor studied her expre
ssion, knowing her guard was up. “Okay, we will meet here at my office again.”

  “All right.” Without saying anything else, Carrie walked away. Connor didn’t allow his feelings of compassion to relax until he heard her close the door.

  Carrie went to bed early that night but was awakened by a nightmare as a wave of trembling shook her body. With the delivery of those pictures, her nightmares had started up again and the face constantly in them belonged to Simon. She and her mother had lived with him for almost four months when something happened that shattered her life and was the beginning of a hellish existence.

  It had started one evening at dinner. As usual, her mother was sleeping off a drunken state, and she and Simon had been the only ones sitting at the table. She hadn’t understood why he’d been watching her eat until later . . . the first night he’d come to her room. He had explained that he got aroused just from watching her eat. At the time she hadn’t understood what he meant, but she soon did. She had tried to avoid eating around him but he wouldn’t let her. And each time she did so, she’d known what would happen. Her stomach clenched tight at the memories.

  After returning to her father and brothers she had demanded to eat alone for a long time. Of course they had found her request strange, and to this day they never understood why, because she had been too ashamed to tell them.

  She knew Connor wondered why she had turned down his offer to take her to lunch for their next meeting, but there was no way she could sit across from him, or any man, his eyes watching her as she ate. It would trigger memories of those terrible days with Simon.

  She heard the knock and then a comforting voice through her bedroom door. “Carrie, are you all right? I thought I heard you scream.”

  “I’m okay Pop, just a bad dream,” she called out, hoping he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  All right, then.”

  As soon as she was sure he was gone, she settled back in bed and softly began crying for the childhood she never had.