No More Playas

by Brenda Jackson

  He started to say something then remembered the day she had refused to eat lunch with him at his office. Evidently that was one of her many hang-ups. “Fine, eat alone. Just don’t bother me if you begin choking on your food or something.”

  “I’m old enough to know how to eat properly, thank you very much.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he said, grabbing his one piece of luggage and walking off toward the bedroom where he would be sleeping, and wondering just what else she knew how to do properly ... or improperly.

  Carrie glanced around her bedroom. The color scheme of peach and aqua was different from most hotels, and the splash of sun coming through the window gave it a lush translucent beauty.

  She had to admit that her bedroom was nice, and since it had a separate bath she had made a mountain out of a molehill in arguing with Connor. But still . . . even with a spacious sitting room separating them, the thought that he shared part of her space was unnerving.

  It didn’t help matters that she had spent a lot of her time in flight covertly studying him—especially the sexy curve of his mouth, wondering how it would fit on hers. Then there were his hands. Large and strong looking, almost aristocratic. His nails were short, clean, and had a healthy appearance. She had speculated how his hands would feel stroking certain parts of her body before his mouth took over. Thoughts of his mouth and hands had had her twitching in her seat for most of the flight. Unlike him, she had welcomed the turbulence, which had helped shake some sense into her.

  But only up to a point. Back on land, it was an entirely different story.

  There was no way she could ignore how he looked in a pair of jeans. Damn his soul, he was blessed with having the best looking butt she’d ever seen on a man. And the way his jeans hugged his backside as well as the way they clung to his firm thighs was enough to make your mouth go dry. Then there was the strength of his muscles and the ease with which he had managed all their luggage. Her exposed belly had clenched with total awareness when he moved those gorgeous muscles to do anything. Even when he had stood at the front desk signing them in, she watched how his shirt had molded to every masculine line of his chest. Magnificent.

  Hoping that a good hot bath would erase thoughts of Connor from her mind, she quickly walked toward the bathroom.

  Connor needed to sleep but couldn’t. He was in a bad way. In frustration he grabbed his pillow and placed it over his face, thinking if he suffocated himself he would stop breathing, which meant he would also stop thinking about Carrie.

  It also meant he would stop living.

  He tossed the pillow aside, refusing to let Carrie Montgomery be the death of him. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a woman out there to die for. They were a dime a dozen, and from the time he’d reached puberty and had figured out the differences between a man and a woman, and after eavesdropping on his older cousins’ conversations about “getting some,” he’d known he would grow up to enjoy women. And luckily, enjoying them had come easy for him. He’d had the art of seduction down to pat by the age of sixteen, and when it came to sex, he could work his way inside any woman’s panties. He definitely believed in equal opportunity. Although he had discriminating taste, he would do any female of legal age, no matter the race, creed, or color.

  He smiled when he recalled the crazy white sicko he had taken off his cousin Marcus’s hands a month ago. The woman had gotten a taste of black and had refused to go back, turning herself into a stalker, a damn nuisance. In distress Marcus had called on him to use his expertise as a cop to handle it. He chuckled every time he remembered just how he had handled it and to this day he hadn’t told Marcus any of the details. What his cousin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. All Marcus knew was that whatever approach Conner had used had worked. Marcus didn’t need to know all the fringe benefits that had come along with it.

  The ringing of the phone almost startled Connor, and he reached over and picked it up. “Yeah?”

  “I thought you were going to check in once you got to L.A.”

  Connor pulled himself up in bed to sit on the edge. “Jet lag screwed me up. I had planned to do it later,” he said after recognizing Brad’s voice. His friend didn’t have to know the real reason he had gotten screwed up. “How are things going?”

  “Fine. You got a call from a Stuart Miller out in L.A. He said he got some information on what you were asking him about.”

  “Good. Let me grab a pen to jot down his number.” In addition to finding Simon Anderson, Miller was supposed to dig into information on Edwina Montgomery, as well. From what he’d been able to gather, her mother and Anderson split up not long after Carrie had run off. The man had literally kicked Edwina out on the streets, drug habit and all. It was clearly plain to see that Anderson—who’d later turned out to be a known pedophile—had not been interested in the mother but in the daughter. The bastard.

  “Thanks for the info, Brad. I’ll give Miller a call.”

  After his conversation with Brad, Connor decided since he couldn’t sleep, he might was well make contact with Miller. They had met years ago at a police officer seminar in Atlanta. Miller, who’d had plans of one day establishing a private investigative firm, had been the one to plant that same idea into Connor’s head, for which he was extremely grateful.

  Connor’s smile widened when he thought that another thing he liked about Miller was that the man was a true bona fide playa. During the weeklong seminar, he had had the female sex practically at his feet. . . and definitely on their backs. By the time the seminar was over, Miller had slept with most of the female attendees and had started hitting on a few of the hotel staff.

  Since he needed to get laid, Connor decided that spending time with Miller this afternoon would definitely be more productive than time spent with Carrie Montgomery. Hopefully after their talk, his friend would be willing to take him around to a few of the “hot” spots.

  Carrie had just slipped into her bathrobe and belted it around her waist when she heard the knock on her door. “Yes?”

  “It’s Connor.”

  She knew it was Connor. Who else would it be? She quickly made it to the door and opened it partway. “What do you want?”

  Connor saw that her unpleasant attitude hadn’t wavered any. But no matter what mood she was in, he couldn’t help notice her robe and think that this was the first time he had seen her with her stomach completely covered. He missed seeing her bare skin. Forcing his mind back on track, he said. “I’m going out for a while.”

  She raised a dark brow. “But I thought you were tired from the flight and wanted to take a nap.”

  He gave a negligent shrug. “That had been my plan, but I got a message from my contact. He wants to meet with me.”

  Carrie nodded. “Should I come, too?”

  With Miller’s reputation, the last thing he intended was for the two of them to meet. He shook his head, wondering why on earth he was suddenly feeling territorial. “No, you don’t need to come. After we get a good night sleep tonight, we’ll go check out Anderson’s place tomorrow.”

  “All right.”

  Connor couldn’t help noticing how quickly she had looked away from him when their gazes had held a tad longer than was necessary. That hadn’t been the first time she had—whether she wanted to or not—acknowledged him as a man. And for a woman who claimed she didn’t do men, that had to be pretty unnerving for her. But he was tempted to do more than just unnerve her. A part of him wanted to stir up all that passion he believed she had bottled inside of her. Damn, stirring up anything with Carrie Montgomery was the last thing he needed to be thinking about.

  “I’ll be back later,” he said abruptly, turning to leave.

  “Connor?”

  He jerked his head around. “What?”

  For a moment she didn’t say anything, just stared at him and for a second he felt what he knew that were both trying to fight. Instant attraction. Animal lust. “Be careful.”

  Color swept her brown cheeks, and for a mom
ent he was taken back, disconcerted, by the way she was looking at him, filled with concern. Did she have any idea how much her care for his safety touched him?

  Bloody hell! He didn’t want anything a woman did to touch him—unless it was giving him a mind-blowing orgasm.

  His eyes narrowed. He threw back at her the same words she had thrown out at him on the plane: “I can take care of myself.”

  “What the hell you mean the bastard’s in a nursing home?”

  Stuart Miller held up both hands, laughing. “Hey, man, calm down,” he said to Connor. “You said you wanted him dead, so this is close to it. After following up on a tip, I checked out the nursing home he’s in, and Simon Anderson is in a pretty bad way.”

  Miller reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s the address to the place if you want to check it out for yourself.”

  Connor took the card and looked at it. If Anderson was as bad off as Miller claimed, that meant he was not the one who’d sent Carrie those pictures. “How long has he been there?”

  “He’s been there for about three months. Someone dropped him off in the ER at one of the hospitals after what looked like a possible drug overdose, which eventually triggered a stroke. I’m sure his history of drugs and booze didn’t help matters any, and now he can’t talk or move the majority of his body parts. In other words, Anderson is paralyzed. He just sits there every day and does nothing but stare into space. I saw him, and he looks pretty damn pathetic.”

  The bastard deserved it. He doubted that Carrie was the only child the man had violated in his lifetime. “I want to see him for myself. Just to make sure he’s pathetic enough to suit me.”

  Miller nodded. “Okay. I told Lila to expect you.”

  “Lila?”

  Miller smiled. “Yes, that’s his nurse, and she’s definitely a fine piece of work, if you know what I mean. She and I have gotten pretty friendly over the past couple of days.”

  Connor shook his head. Knowing Miller, he could believe that. “Did Lila say whether Anderson gets regular visitors?”

  “No, in fact she mentioned that no one ever visits him, so they assume he has no family or friends.”

  Connor snorted. Someone had taken those pictures off the bastard’s hands and had known just how to contact Carrie. “Thanks for the information, man.”

  “Hey, no problem. You know how I feel about pedophiles.”

  Yes, Connor did know. He’d heard that the reason Miller had left the police force early was due to losing his cool and almost beating the hell out of a man who’d kidnapped and abused a little girl. Miller had been the arresting officer and had given the man one good ass whipping before hauling him off to jail, something the Police Review Board had frowned upon. They had given him the choice of early retirement or facing strict disciplinary action.

  For the next hour, they talked while lingering over beer and watching the women who passed their table as the sound of a saxophone filled the air. One woman in particular had been sitting at the bar staring over at Connor for the past thirty minutes. The look in her eyes said volumes. She needed to get laid as much as he did.

  “Hey man, if you don’t hit on her, I will.”

  Connor’s gaze move from the woman to Miller. As much as he wanted to get his pleasure between a nice pair of legs tonight, a part of him held back, and he was too frustrated at the moment to question why. “Go ahead, man. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Hell, I’m always in the mood.”

  Miller quickly got up and crossed the room to the woman. He was about to run a game that would have her eating out of his hands . . . and no telling where else before the night was over. Connor shook his head and took another sip of beer, watching Miller and the woman head to the dance floor.

  Already Miller had a possessive hand on the woman’s ass, staking his claim for the night. It certainly seemed that his loss was his friend’s gain. He watched them dance together, saw their measured movements, and noticed how good their bodies fit.

  At that moment, he couldn’t help wondering how he and Carrie would fit. Somehow he knew if they ever danced together, she would feel right in his arms. He could even imagine their bodies close, tight, and with the differences in their height, her head would come to rest just under his chin. And if he were to lean down and kiss her, he knew he would find that tempting chocolate mouth warm, tasty, and full of delicious pleasure.

  “Would you like another beer?”

  The waitress’s question almost startled Connor. “No, thanks.” When she walked off, he checked his watch. It was close to midnight. Chances were Carrie would be asleep about now.

  He stood, threw some bills, on the table and tossed a thumbs- up to Miller before leaving the club. True to his word, Miller had taken him to a place filled with “hot” women, but no woman, Connor decided, was hotter than the one sharing a suite with him back at the hotel.

  20

  “Did your contact have any more information on Simon?”

  Connor glanced up while lifting the covers of the breakfast that he’d ordered to be delivered to his room. After getting in last night, he had been surprised to find the light shining underneath Carrie’s door, indicating she was still awake. Frustrated as hell, he had taken a cold shower, crawled between the clean cotton sheets, and had called himself all kinds of fool for not getting a piece off the woman at the bar when he’d had the chance.

  “Yes, he had information,” he said.

  Carrie sat on the sofa and casually sipped her coffee. True to form, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a midriff top. And her belly was showing. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering over the exposed area. He’d never had a fetish for a woman’s stomach before but there was something about hers. . . .

  “What kind of information? And would you look at my face and not my belly.”

  Connor blinked. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t look at your stomach if you kept it covered. Dressing like you do is only asking for trouble.”

  Carrie laughed. She had heard some of the same from her brothers countless times. “If you don’t know, it’s the latest style.”

  “Well, if you ask me, exposing yourself that way is one style you should stay away from.”

  “Nobody asked you.”

  Connor went back to uncovering the platters that were filled with his food. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Sure you don’t want any?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that I like eating alone?”

  He turned and stared at her for a long moment then said, “Do you want to tell me why?”

  “No. What I want is for you to tell me what the guy told you last night.”

  Connor sat down at the table, ready to dig in to his breakfast. A slow grin touched his lips. “What makes you think it was a man?”

  Carrie placed her coffee cup on the table with a thump. “I don’t know nor do I care. The only thing I want is to know what you were told.”

  Connor picked up the glass of orange juice, took a slow sip. They both knew he was deliberately stalling, trying to agitate her. Not many women refused to share a meal with him, and he was beginning not to like it one damn bit.

  “Connor, what do you know?”

  He decided to answer her, knowing she wouldn’t like what he was going to tell her. “Simon Anderson can’t be the one trying to blackmail you.”

  Carrie sat up and inclined forward. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he’s in a nursing home. He can’t talk, and he’s paralyzed. He’s been there for three months.”

  He watched Carrie, knowing the impact of his words. She stood and walked over to the wet bar in the room where the coffeepot was located and poured another cup. She then walked back across the room and sank down in the love seat. “We’ll never find the person who sent those pictures.”

  “I’ll find them.” He still wasn’t ready to tell her of his next suspect. “You’re going to have to trust me on that.” He scoote
d closer to the table. “Now if you will excuse me, I’d like to eat my breakfast. The sooner I finish eating, the sooner we can to check out Simon Anderson at that nursing home.”

  Connor stopped walking just seconds before he and Carrie entered the nursing home. He touched her hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Carrie glanced from Connor to the door, thinking that confronting Simon wasn’t anything she wanted to do but was something she had to do . . . for closure.

  “Yes,” she said softly, swallowing the lump in her throat and returning her gaze to his. “It’s something that I must do, Connor.”

  He studied her features, saw the determined glint in her eyes and nodded. “Okay, then, let’s go on in,” he said, gently placing his hand on her back to guide her through the door.

  Carrie was grateful for Connor’s presence. It would be hard to come face-to-face with the man she had hated for so long. The man who had robbed her of the chance to grow up an innocent. The man she had considered a father figure until . . .

  “You all right?”

  Carrie nodded, knowing Connor had felt the shiver that had run down her body. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  After making a stop at the front desk and talking to the woman who’d identified herself as Simon’s nurse, they were walking down the long hall that led to Simon’s room. Carrie wasn’t sure what she would find. According to Connor, Simon was in pretty bad shape, but she had to see for herself.

  When they reached Simon’s room, the door was open and Carrie stopped and stood in the doorway, unable to tear her eyes from the man sitting in a wheelchair in front of a window. She eased a deep breath past the tightness in her throat, thinking that “pathetic” was too kind a word to use for how he looked. It appeared as if he’d had a stroke. He looked haggard and old and his face and hands were all twisted. He looked nothing like the huge, intimidating man he’d once been.

  Connor’s hand still on her back somehow gave her the strength she needed to take a step into the room. Simon gave no indication that he heard them enter, instead he sat there, staring out of the window. Carrie squared her shoulders and started toward him . . . then stopped. She glanced back at Connor.