Captivated by Love (Grangers Book 1)

by Brenda Jackson

  She noted Sheppard Granger hadn’t said anything, but was just standing there, staring at her. Nervously pasting a smile on her face, she figured the best thing to do would be to get right down to business. “Mr. Granger, I thought we could cover--”

  “Sheppard. Since we’ll be doing a number of these meetings, it’s okay for you to call me Sheppard.”

  She nodded while placing her briefcase on the table. “Okay. Please call me Carson.”

  A smile spread across his lips. The same lips she’d dreamed of kissing just last night. The same smile that could make heat curl in her stomach. “Okay, Carson.”

  And why did he have to say her name like that? In a way that heightened her already irregular pulse? “Then let’s get started.”

  He looked at the files she was pulling out of her briefcase. “So what do you have for me today?” he asked.

  Not what I wish I could have for you. She was tempted to spank her cheeks for thinking such a thing. At that moment, she knew today’s meeting was going to be more difficult than ever.

  #

  Sheppard tried keeping his lustful thoughts at bay, but every time his gaze connected with Carson’s, even for the briefest moment, jolts of sexual energy pounded his mid-section. He was keenly aware of her in every pore of his body. Being this close to her was causing desire to race up his spine, and her scent seemed to thicken the very air he was breathing.

  Although they were sitting a decent amount of space from each other at the table, more than once their legs accidently touched. The first time, he’d quickly apologized, since he’d been stretching out his leg when it happened. The contact made his body throb and when he caught her eyes, he couldn’t ignore the look he saw--pure sexual awareness.

  The next time, she had been the one to accidently touch her leg against his. Unexpectedly, he’d drawn in a sharp breath and barely heard her quick, “Sorry.” He’d been tempted to tell her not to apologize, that she could brush her leg against his any time.

  Avoiding the temptation of playing footsy with her, he straightened in his seat and decided to keep his legs to himself. The last thing he wanted to be accused of was any kind of sexual harassment.

  “So, did you get a chance to talk to Matthew Fontane?” she asked him, breaking into his thoughts.

  He glanced at her and a crackle of energy passed between them. He was surprised Ambrose hadn’t heard the pop. But when he glanced over at where the guard sat, Ambrose appeared absorbed in his crossword puzzle, as usual.

  He drew in a deep breath. “Yes, but I’m not sure he understands how important it will be for him to stay out of trouble.”

  “Well, let’s hope it sinks in. The parole board meets in a couple of months.”

  “I’ll be meeting with Fontane again this week and will reiterate it to him.”

  “Great.”

  It was evident they were stalling instead of bringing the meeting to an end. It was supposed to only last an hour and already, they’d gone thirty minutes beyond that time.

  “When will we meet again?” he asked. What he was really asking though, was when he would see her again.

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders. Today she was wearing another business suit. Another style, another color but just as professional and sexy. He liked this red one. She didn’t know it but red was his favorite color. On her, it looked just like it was supposed to look. Red hot.

  “When do you think we need to meet again, Sheppard?”

  “In two weeks.” He was suggesting two weeks instead of three because he honestly didn’t think he could stand waiting three weeks.

  She held his gaze and the spike of heat flowing between them caught him low in the gut. They continued to stare at each other for a few moments longer and then she nodded. “Okay. There’s an important case I’m working on but I should be able to meet again with you in two weeks. I’ll make the necessary arrangements with Warden Smallwood.” She began gathering the files to put back in her briefcase.

  Ambrose looked up from his puzzle. “The two of you are finished?”

  Not by a long shot, Sheppard was tempted to say. “Yes, we’re through for today.”

  #

  Just like she’d done at the end of the last meeting, Carson deliberately stayed behind, saying she had a couple of files she needed to review.

  It was only after they left, closing the door behind them that she released a deep breath, convinced the manly scent of Sheppard still lingered in the air. During the meeting, she had to fight not to lose herself in the flicker of arousal she saw in the depths of his dark eyes. And when he had brushed his legs against hers, she had felt every cell in her body actually vibrate.

  She stood and began pacing. Typically, her meetings never ran long but today’s had gone half an hour later. In reality, she knew it probably could have ended sooner, but more than once there had been a lag in their conversation when they’d been caught staring at each other. And she’d found herself repeating information more than once about something when her concentration wavered.

  The sound of his voice mesmerized her. Smooth yet husky, with the ability to caress her skin with each and every syllable. And whenever he smiled at her, she would feel all bubbly inside and would automatically smile back. Both of their mouths had to be aching from smiling at each other so much.

  And why on earth had she agreed to see him again in two weeks instead of three? Deep down, Carson knew the answer. He wanted to see her again as much as she wanted to see him. Why would a level-headed thirty-seven-year-old woman want to become involved with a man ten years her senior, who was in prison with twenty more years to serve, a minimum of eight more before he could even be considered for parole? A man, who could very well be a murderer.

  She stopped pacing and shook her head. She refused to believe that. She might not have known Sheppard Granger long but she doubted he was capable of killing anyone.

  Carson began pacing again. Could the reason that she was so attracted to Sheppard have anything to do with the fact she hadn’t seriously been involved with anyone for years?

  It had taken her six years after her divorce to even consider getting serious about a guy. She had dated a race car driver name Gil Joyner for six months. She broke things off with him when his controlling tendencies became too much for her. After that, she only dated when she wanted to and usually her interest was in professional men--other attorneys, college professors, accountants and bankers. Men who didn’t have a problem treating her as an equal.

  Carson had taken enough crap from Pence not to ever want to be bothered with dominating males. She’d been happy and satisfied with the way her life was going…until the day she’d been introduced to Sheppard.

  Something had to give. No, something had to stop. The whole idea of her being attracted so deeply to a convict didn’t make any sense. Regardless of how good he looked, how wonderful he smelled, or how well he carried himself.

  She needed to go home, soak in a bubble bath and have a glass of wine. She didn’t care if it was the middle of the day. There were some things you just couldn’t put off doing. And the one thing she wouldn’t do, no matter how tempting, was to see Sheppard more often. Doing so served no purpose and might put ideas in his head she rather not have there.

  She would see him again in three weeks, as she’d originally agreed. Hopefully, by then, she’d find a way to deal with the intense attraction she felt for Sheppard Granger.

  #

  Sheppard glanced at the illuminated clock on his wall. It was midnight and the guards had given the signal that all inmates were in their cells and accounted for. Most of them shared cells but one of the perks of being a trustee was having your own space. He had solid walls on both sides that afforded him some semblance of privacy. Still, the bedroom he’d left behind at Sutton Hills was a hundred times the size of the living/sleeping quarters he occupied now.

  Now that all the guys on his floor were asleep, he should be able to close his eyes for the night as well. It w
as as if they were his responsibility, his surrogate sons, and until he knew they were safe for the night, he couldn’t rest.

  It had been that way when he’d been at Glenworth as well. A lot of the men had been bad asses but by the time they’d been released, they had managed to look at the world and their situation through new eyes. They hadn’t been bitter, but better. Resilient, instead of resentful. Filled with humility instead of being consumed by hate. And he was proud of each and every one of them. Parting ways had been hard. At Delvers, he hoped he could make a difference in the lives of the twenty young men on his team. He cared about them.

  His thoughts switched to Carson Boyett. He knew she cared about them as well. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be putting in all those pro bono hours here. According to Ambrose--who’d had a wealth of information about Carson to share again--she had a small law practice in downtown Charlottesville.

  Today, he’d been even more attracted to her than the last time. The scent of her perfume had been too damn nice, and his hand had itched to smooth back the one stray strand of hair that curled on her forehead. She’d worn her hair down today, touching her shoulders and he liked that style on her. It was hard to believe she was thirty-seven. She looked a whole lot younger than that. He would have guessed she was in her late twenties or so.

  More than once, he’d been tempted to reach out and deliberately touch her hand when she’d handed him several documents. He appreciated that Ambrose followed the rules and never left them alone. No telling what moves he’d be tempted to make if he ever got her to himself.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he shifted his head on the pillow. He knew that was wishful thinking. He wouldn’t make any inappropriate moves on her, or any woman. He was raised to be too much of a gentleman for that. But still, Carson had a way of tempting him to the nth degree. The only moves he would ever make on her were in his dreams and knew the moment he closed his eyes, she’d be there, starring in each and every dream.

  He had settled in a deep sleep when suddenly the bright lights woke him the same time the siren sounded. Had someone tried to escape? He quickly went to the front of the cell to see what was going on. Guards were running all over the place and he was able to ask one what was happening.

  “One of the inmates pretended to have stomach pains. When the guard went into his cell to check on him, the inmate knocked him out and escaped. Luckily he was apprehended before he made it to the third floor.”

  Unease seeped inside Sheppard’s every pore. “How’s the guard?”

  “He’ll have a doozy of a headache in the morning, but other than that, he’s okay.”

  “Can you tell me the name of the inmate who did it?” Sheppard asked, already having an idea who the person was but needing verification.

  “Yeah. It was that troublemaker. Matthew Fontane.”

  4

  Sheppard smiled as he read the email he’d received from Lamar “Striker” Jennings. Striker wanted him to know that he’d met all the requirements to get his Bachelor’s Degree from Hampton University and intended to keep going and work on a MBA from the University of Virginia.

  He couldn’t be more proud of Striker. The young man had come a long way and Sheppard could see him going further. Same thing for Quasar Patterson and Stonewall Courson. After a rough beginning, those three had become the best of friends. When they’d left Glenworth, they’d promised to always have each other’s backs. He believed they would.

  The three had moved to Charlottesville, where Stonewall was born and where his sister and grandmother still lived. Sheppard figured he and Stonewall had bragged so much about what a great city Charlottesville was that Striker and Quasar wanted to check it out for themselves.

  “Shep, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Sheppard glanced over at Ambrose. “Thanks.” He couldn’t help wondering who would pay him a visit. He’d spoken to his father two days ago when Richard had called to let him know he had a business trip to Puerto Rico and wouldn’t be back until next week. He doubted any of his sons would drop in for a surprise visit. Jace was in California, Caden was currently on the road with his band, and as far as Dalton was concerned, there was no telling. The good thing about Dalton playing in the NFL was that he could watch the games on television in the recreation room.

  Sheppard had been proud of the way his son performed and knew he was doing okay with endorsements. Now if Dalton could only leave all those women alone and make sure he put some money aside for a rainy day, his youngest son would be fine.

  As he continued to walk beside Ambrose to where inmates would meet with visitors, he wondered again who his visitor might be. His testosterones kicked into gear at the thought it might be Carson. But there was no way she’d pay him a random visit. He’d seen her a week ago and was counting the days until he would see her again. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be all into her, when his future for the next twenty-years was inside these barricaded walls. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  “Wait here until I get him signed in,” Ambrose said.

  “Him?” he asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

  Ambrose chuckled. “Yes. Him. Were you expecting a lady friend or something, Shep?”

  Sheppard shrugged and returned the chuckle. “A man can hope, right?”

  “Right. There’s nothing wrong with hoping.”

  Sheppard sat down at the table in the media room, not the place where he’d met with Carson last week. In a way that was good. He didn’t want to deal with any memories today.

  He’d only been there ten minutes when the door opened. He stood when the private investigator his father had hired walked in behind Ambrose. “Marshall? This is a pleasant surprise.”

  Marshall Imerson had met with him a couple of times since Richard had hired him, mainly to gather information for his investigation.

  “Sorry to bother you but I need to run some names by you. Can you tell me if any of them ring a bell?”

  #

  Carson entered the restaurant and glanced around until she saw the man sitting at the table on the other side of the room. He sat there as if in deep thought and she could just imagine what was on his mind. Had his wife lived, they would be celebrating her thirtieth birthday tonight.

  Carson recalled the first time she’d met Roland. He’d been a cop intentionally set up by fellow corrupt cops to take the fall. As a result, he had been sentenced to fifteen years. He had served three years when his wife, Becca, had hired Carson to fight to have his case reopened. In retaliation, Becca was killed and an attempt had even been made on Carson’s life. Carson had managed to expose the team of bad cops and in the end, all five had been charged with Becca’s murder.

  She would never forget the day when Becca Summers walked through the doors of the State Attorney’s office where she’d worked. Becca had wanted help in getting her husband a retrial, claiming he’d been framed. No one in the office that day had wanted to hear what Becca had to say, especially because it pertained to Charlottesville’s finest men in blue. But for some reason, Carson had been intrigued and had invited Becca to a nearby café for coffee.

  Although she’d had to admit Becca’s story had sounded farfetched, Carson had checked things out and found some plausible truth in her claim. When she’d taken it to her boss and asked for an okay to investigate Becca’s allegations, he’d given it to her.

  It had taken Carson almost a full year to build her case and during that time, she and Becca had become close friends. So every year since Roland’s release, she would join him on Becca’s birthday to celebrate the life of a woman who’d lost her life, trying to clear her husband of crime he hadn’t committed. Roland had loved Becca something fierce and had taken her death hard. They both had. As a result, their friendship had grown over the years.

  Considering the six-year difference in their ages, she considered Roland the younger brother she never had. She often wondered if Roland would ever remarry. The one time she’d
asked him, he’d told her that he was destined to love only one woman in his life time and that woman had been Becca. Now he was married to the Summers Security Firm, the bodyguard company he’d opened up a few years ago.

  Pasting a bright smile on her face, she moved toward the table where Roland sat. “Sorry if I kept you waiting, Roland.”

  He glanced up and it almost hurt to look at him. She could clearly see the pain in his eyes. He smiled anyway when he saw her and stood up to pull out her chair. “No problem. I haven’t been waiting long.”

  She intended to try and cheer him up. The one way she knew she could do that was to talk about Becca. She could and would not ignore the reason they had met here tonight. “Glad you picked this place,” she said, glancing around. “I came here once with Becca. God, she loved Italian food.”

  Roland chuckled. “Yes, she did. I recalled her first attempt at making lasagna. It was a total flop but I ate it anyway.”

  They burst out laughing and started regaling each other with Becca stories. It was always good talking about Becca Summers and what a truly wonderful person she was. The waiter came and took their dinner order and in memory of Becca, they both asked for lasagna.

  “So how are things going with Summers Security Firm?” she asked him.

  “Great. We’re taking on new clients so I’m looking for able-bodied men to hire.”

  “Experienced?”

  “Not necessary. I’m still working with that tactical training school out west to train my guys.”

  She knew that Roland currently had six guys in his employ. She’d met most of them at one time or another. Nice guys. Hardworking. Dedicated and loyal. Three of them were ex-cons like Roland. Although they’d been at the same prison, Glenworth Penitentiary, he hadn’t known them yet. Since Roland had been a cop, he’d been housed in a different building and their paths had never crossed.

  “How’s Roddran and the baby?”