Any Man I Want

by Michele Grant

  I grinned back with zero shame. He was a good-looking man. It would be just plain criminal not to enjoy the scenery. “I’m good. I mean, I’m mad as hell. I’m tempted to take you up on that ass-kicking offer, but I’m good. Are you going to ask?”

  “Ask what?”

  “Whether the tape is a fake or not? Whether or not I seduced a man for business?”

  “Girl, please.” He snorted and took his cell phone out of his pocket. Without elaborating, he started typing out a message.

  I crossed my arms across my chest and started tapping my foot. He had to be the slightest bit curious.

  He glanced up. “Problem, diva?”

  “You seriously don’t have any questions?”

  “I seriously already know the answers. You, that dude? C’mon.” He scoffed and then looked around. “Pack your stuff, we’re outta here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, princess: Open your fancy suitcases and place your pricey belongings in them so we can depart. Daylight’s burning.” He grinned at me indulgently and went back to fiddling with his smartphone.

  The man was fine, but infuriating. “I know what packing means, smart-ass. I’m asking what you mean about me and Kevin.”

  He stepped close and put a finger under my chin to tilt my head up to him. “I’m not saying you couldn’t seduce a man out of his last dollar if you put your mind to it, sweetheart. But that ain’t you. There may be a man on this planet who you would compromise your principles for, but Kevin Delancey is not that dude.”

  “Yeah?” I tilted my head in acknowledgment. He made a solid point. I didn’t realize he knew me that well.

  “Yeah.” He laughed and waved his cell phone at me. “I’m TeamKat.”

  That drew a smile from me. “Well, okay then. What’s the plan?”

  Carter nodded and took a step back. “You assume I have a plan?”

  “You didn’t hop a plane and get down here just to have conch fritters and stroll on the beach, Big Sexy. You are, among other things, a man with a plan.”

  “I am in possession of a plan. I do want those conch fritters, but we don’t have time. You need to get packed. We’re wheels up in about two hours.”

  “Are you going to tell me what the plan is?” I turned and headed for the closet. Most of my things were already packed; I just needed to pull the last of it together. I rolled out the last bag and started putting in some shoes. I walked to the bathroom to retrieve my cosmetics.

  “Yes, the plan is to make Kevin Delancey rue the day he ever thought to mess with Katrina Montgomery.”

  I, who was paid to walk gracefully, tripped over air as I whirled around to face him. I caught myself on the edge of the dresser. “Did you just use rue the day in a sentence?”

  He flashed his grin again. “Yeah, Belle told me how much you love when guys say that to you.”

  I choked back a laugh and rolled my eyes. “Adore it. Are you going to clue me in on any of the specifics of the plan or you wanna spend some more time cracking wise, sweet-talker?”

  “Before we get on the plane, you’re filming a statement.”

  “Okay.” I checked the dresser drawers to make sure I had emptied them.

  “Before we head back to Dallas, you’re getting a new boyfriend.”

  I slammed the last drawer shut and spun around again to stare at him. “A new what?”

  “Boyfriend, boo, cuddle buddy. You understand the concept. We’re hooking you up,” Carter said silkily.

  “Why? Who? What?” I sputtered in confusion.

  “You and me, sweetheart. Our time has come.” He brushed past me, picked up two of the larger suitcases, and headed for the door. “I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready.”

  I was a college-degreed spokesmodel renowned for my confidence, poise, and assurance; but in that moment... all I could come up with to say was “Ummmm.”

  “Close your mouth, Kitty. Time’s a–wasting. We gotta go.” He let the door close behind him with a definitive click.

  I snapped my jaw shut and sank down to the edge of the bed. In the last forty-eight hours I’d posed for pictures, designed a catalogue, broken up with a man, been immortalized as a skank on YouTube, and now acquired a new boyfriend. What was my life all about suddenly? Maybe I would take that Advil after all.

  3

  I can count on you to treat my baby sister with some respect

  Carter—Monday, May 23—1:06 p.m.

  I loaded Katrina’s bags into the trunk of the jeep with a smile. I think that’s the first time in our history I’d ever seen her speechless. I liked it. The best way to deal with a high-maintenance, headstrong, used-to-getting-her-own-way woman like Audelia Katrina Montgomery? Keep it simple, state it plain, and keep it moving. Katrina was the kind of woman who men went stupid for. Not just a few men. Most men. And she knew it. And used it to her advantage. I wasn’t about to become one of the many.

  I’d known Katrina since she was thirteen years old and watched her grow from a cute, self-confident girl to a drop-dead gorgeous, self-assured woman. I’d met Katrina’s older brother Beau over fifteen years ago when he transferred into Louisiana State University at the end of sophomore year. He and I became friends immediately. He was a baseball player, I was a football player. We were both popular and outgoing, we liked to have a good time, and neither of us lacked for dates. At one time we were known on campus as the Pontchartrain poonhounds. Though I hated the name, we’d probably earned it. We were young, smart, talented, and if I may say so, handsome as hell. Beau had been the kind of guy to take everything lightly and live one day at a time. I was the guy who weighed out all the ramifications and had a plan for the future. He was flashy in a pretty-boy kind of way and I was understated and good-looking in a less in-your-face kind of way. We probably should have disliked each other on g.p. and competed for every girl on campus. Instead, we fell into complementary synergy that lasted to this day.

  When Beau invited me to his house for that first Thanksgiving holiday, I jumped at the chance to see a different kind a family life. I loved the Montgomerys at first sight. They were the exact opposite of my parents. Clara and Caleb Parks split up before I could remember them being together. Caleb took off for parts unknown two weeks after my birth. My mother, never one for responsibility, fled not too long after. For years I had been shuffled from aunt to neighbor to kindly teacher until my grandfather stepped in around the time I turned twelve. Collin Parks became both mother and father to me. He was stern, but fair, and always stressed the importance of living up to your word, getting an education, and facing situations like a man.

  A few years later, he went away for a weekend and came back with an infant who he introduced as my younger brother Chris. I loved that kid at first sight. Collin and Chris made up my family unit. It was just the three of us until the day I signed my first NFL contract. That was the first day I ever laid eyes on my father. He and my mother appeared from God-knows-where with huge smiles on their faces, apologies on their lips, and their hands out. The minute I wrote a check, they disappeared, not to be seen again until their accounts ran low. The first time it hurt. The second time it stung. Then I became immune to it. I came to understand that not everybody who gives birth is a parent.

  In direct comparison, Avery and Alanna Montgomery were solid, straight-shooting parents who only wanted the best for their kids and were willing to work to get it for them. Beau may have taken some time to come into his own, but there wasn’t a mean bone in his body and he was deceptively smart. Roman, Beau’s younger brother, was serious and ambitious with a wicked sense of humor. And then there was Katrina. At age thirteen, she was already a looker. Whip-thin and witty with a precocious attitude and smart mouth that only the spoiled baby girl of a family could pull off.

  She went from cute and thin to pretty and willowy to jaw-droppingly stunning and curvy in the blink of an eye. Beau had gone into modeling after our junior year of college and Katrina followed him into the industry
when she turned seventeen. We had been around each other for years. She and I had easy camaraderie from the beginning. Over the years, our interactions grew a bit more charged. Women like Katrina Montgomery were rare. If she hadn’t been the younger sister of my best friend, I would have asked her out the minute she was legal. About eighteen months ago, she started throwing not-so-subtle hints that she was interested in turning the friendship into something more interesting, but as much as I wanted to . . . I wasn’t ready to go there quite yet. Watching her come into her own as she stepped further away from the catwalk and more into the corporate side of design had piqued my interest. She’d developed additional depth and she wore the mantle of maturity well. I broached the topic of dating her with Beau briefly last year and he had sounded so appalled that I backed off.

  But when this Delancey fool broke bad, Beau called me to ask for my opinion and assistance. Near the end of the conversation he said, “You know what, CP? If this is the type of asshole she’s gonna be hooking up with, I’d just assume she’d date you.”

  “Wow, ain’t that a ringing endorsement?” I teased.

  “Carter, you know what I mean. My only concern was that the two of you would get together, burn hot and fast, and then flame out, leaving all of us in an uncomfortable situation.”

  “Could still happen,” I replied honestly.

  “Yeah, but you won’t put a damn sex tape of her up on effing YouTube. No matter what happens, I can count on you to treat my baby sister with some respect.”

  I was momentarily stunned silent.

  Beau laughed. “What did we always say?”

  “We may be scoundrels, but we’re gentlemen.” I recited our motto.

  “Exactly so, mon ami.”

  “So what are you saying?” I wanted him to spell it out.

  “You think I didn’t notice the two of you dancing around each other all these years?”

  “I never laid a hand on her,” I swore.

  “Of course you didn’t, but you looked plenty.”

  “Still looking,” I admitted.

  “We Montgomerys are nice to look at. If you want to do more than look, Big Sexy, you have my blessing. She turns thirty this year and you aren’t getting any younger.”

  “I’m six months younger than you, bruh, and neither of us are ready for a rocking chair on the porch,” I reminded him.

  “But you must admit,” he sniffed, “I’m better maintained.”

  “Oh, there you go.” He may have mellowed, but his ego had not diminished.

  “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to give it a try, this is your shot.”

  “Pardon me while I check and see if snowstorms have hit hell.” I honestly never thought I would see the day when Beau gave me the green light to date his sister.

  “I know, I know. It just seems like a good time for her to get into a stable relationship with a well-respected man. A good man who is strong enough to deal with her without taking advantage, you know?”

  “Wow. Not sure if you are complimenting me, dissin’ her, or pimping me out.”

  “Mais oui? You expect me to believe that it’s gonna be a real hardship for you to date my gorgeous sister and have her on your arm? Do recall that I have been around for your revolving door of semi-relationships with a bevy of random beauties. Now that you’re ready to close the revolving door, you know my sister is an upgrade.”

  “You’re assuming she’ll go along with this?”

  “Parks, all that time you were looking at her?” Beau mentioned.

  “Yeah?”

  “She was looking right back.”

  “Well, all right then.” I nodded in satisfaction.

  “And Carter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You break my sister’s heart, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

  I coughed to cover up my scoffing snort. “You wish you could.”

  “Let’s not find out. C’est vrai?”

  “Agreed.”

  That brought me back to right now. I was here to get Katrina off this island and sequestered someplace safe before we went back to Dallas to face the music. I figured now was as good a time as any to let her know that the days of her dallying around with the Delanceys of the world were done. As if on cue, she came strolling down the steps of the villa as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She slid large sunglasses on her face and smiled at the bellhop as he carried the rest of her bags forward. I leaned against the side of the car to enjoy the view.

  Her long, light-brown hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders to the middle of her back. She wore a long dress with big flowers all over it. Her shoulders were bare and she looked like she’d gotten a little sun in the last few days. She caught my interested perusal and peered at me over the sunglasses. “What are you looking at, Parks?”

  “Good-looking woman walking toward me.”

  “I’ve no doubt that you’ve seen one or two or those before.”

  “There’s no one quite like you, Katrina,” I countered honestly.

  She whipped her sunglasses off and squinted at me. “What’s all this now?”

  I held open the door for her. “We’ll talk on the plane. You need to look over your talking points on the way to the airport.”

  “You already wrote my talking points?” Her voice was inching towards screechiness, but I was determined to be patient with her. She was having a hell of a day.

  “Not me. The new marketing person, I forget her name.”

  “Danila. I met her when I was taking night classes at Southern Methodist. She’s a good friend and very savvy. We brought her on a few months ago.”

  “Yep, her. She wrote them up. I’m just the messenger.” I held my hands up.

  “I’m not an invalid, you know. I’m not without brains. I don’t need people spiriting me away and writing words to put in my mouth.”

  “Understood.” I waved toward the open door as I caught sight of a photographer, who had clearly evaded security, trudging across the beach in our direction. “Can we get going?”

  She put her hand on her waist. “Carter, I’m not one of your floozies. I want answers and I want them now.”

  Patience gone, I stepped to her, crowding into her space until she was pressed against the car. I placed a hand on either side of her and boxed her in. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Katrina, you’re possibly the hottest woman I’ve ever seen and I like you. A lot. On various levels. But I’m not one of your flunkies. You won’t be talking to me any old kinda way. I’m a man. All right? No one would ever mistake you for a floozy, diva. You want to have this discussion out here in open while the paparazzi hovers with telephoto lenses, or can we go?”

  She blinked up at me as if trying to gauge my mood. I held her gaze while she decided what to do next. A small smile lifted her lips. Her hands slid under my jacket to bracket around my waist. “I know you’re a man, Carter. Believe me, I know. We can go.”

  “Well, all right then.” I nodded, backed off, and aided her into the car. We exchanged a loaded glance before I pulled out and headed toward the airport.

  4

  A two-inch, two-minute, two-faced bastard

  Katrina—Monday, May 23—3:41 p.m.

  “I’m not saying this.” I sat in the airport lounge and scrolled through the prepared statement on my tablet and shook my head. “It’s very professional and classy and I get why it was written this way, but I’m not saying that.”

  Carter let out a full-bellied laugh. “You just won me twenty bucks.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I bet Beau that you would not go for that sugary-ass statement.”

  “Yeah, no. If I’m speaking, I’m doing it my way and damn the consequences.”

  “My girl. Do you.”

  I glanced over at him and then looked out the window at the small plane sitting on the tarmac. “Is that the same plane Beau and Belle used last year?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s a former football
player and current real estate developer doing with a plane?”

  “It’s a shared resource. Six of us went in on it. Are you trying to ask me something?”

  It occurred to me that I didn’t know that much about Carter. He went to school with my brother, he owned real estate, he did something involving venture capital, and he had some charities. I knew he had a younger brother and that his grandfather raised him. He was from a small town in Louisiana. I knew he was popular with the ladies. But that’s about all I knew. “What’s your middle name?”

  “Evan.”

  “How did you get the name Big Sexy?”

  “By being big and sexy, probably,” he teased.

  “Seriously, there’s no story behind it?”

  “There’s a story behind it, but if I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh. Do the people you work with call you Big Sexy?”

  “No, the only people that call me that knew me from my football days.”

  “Your wild and wicked days?”

  “I didn’t attach any adjectives.”

  “So you’re not wild and wicked anymore?” I probed.

  “I don’t know about all that,” he answered cryptically.

  “I’m just saying. I can imagine.” I could only imagine.

  “Can you?” He grinned. “I’ll just let you do that then.”

  Getting information out of him was like pulling teeth. “Where do you live?”