Her mother, Jeanette, was an older, more contained version of Tonya. Tall, slim, with the same wide brown eyes and glorious sable hair, she lacked Tonya’s lightheartedness and her extroverted nature. In fact, she seemed a bit shy.
Kirk liked her father better. Although Roger Brewster appeared stern at first glance, Kirk sensed humor beneath the sober mien. He mentioned that to Tonya as they moved on across the room, and she laughed. “He needed a sense of humor to put up with my antics as a kid.”
Kirk couldn’t help but be impressed by the family’s successes. Tonya’s father and uncles were involved, of course, with Down Home Foods, the family business. Her grandmother and aunts, like most women of their generation, didn’t work, but Kirk sensed they wielded power nonetheless.
Then there were the cousins. Claudia, who had turned a fledgling temporary employment agency into the largest concern of its kind in the South. Hal, her husband, a corporate lawyer and a partner in one of the city’s biggest firms. “Successful but dull,” Tonya whispered as they moved on to another group.
She introduced him to Sam’s younger sister Susan next. Quiet and unassuming, she was a dress designer who was making a name for herself not just nationally, but internationally. And to Stuart, the banker, former wannabe race car driver. Kirk met Ryan, Tonya’s brother, possessed of the same mischievous grin as his sister. And, finally, Sam, who, with her husband, owned a large private detective agency, now known as a security firm.
Meeting Tonya’s family in person after hearing her describe them gave him plenty to think about. For some reason, this woman with impressive attributes of her own didn’t feel she measured up. Hard to believe, after the way she’d barreled into the OK Center. For the first time, his resentment at her position there diminished. Instead, he felt a strong desire to protect her, care for her. Not that she’d want to hear his feelings. Extend a helping hand to Tonya and she’d be likely to bite it off.
Sam interrupted his reverie. “Come and sit down.”
He sat beside her on a dainty, damask-covered love seat that made him feel big and out of place. But Sam, he discovered quickly, had a knack for making people comfortable. “Tonya tells me you’re the center’s official jock.”
“I coach whatever sport’s in season. Right now it’s basketball.”
“I’m a fan,” Sam told him. “Wade and I have season tickets to the Rockets games.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I like speed.”
“So does your cousin,” Kirk said with a dry smile.
“You’ve driven with her,” Sam concluded. When he nodded, she chuckled. “It’s an experience.”
“No kidding. She almost sank us during the flood last week. But I probably shouldn’t have told you that She was driving your husband’s truck.”
Sam laughed. “If he let Tonya use it, he knew he was putting the poor vehicle’s life on the line.”
Kirk leaned back and studied Sam thoughtfully. “Tonya likes speed. You must go for danger.”
“Why do you say that?”
He smiled at her. “Private investigating isn’t a typical career choice for...young ladies.”
Sam burst out laughing. “Exactly what my-mother told me. But it’s not the danger that attracts me. It’s the challenge.”
“I think you and Tonya are alike,” he said.
Sam nodded, her expression serious now. “Tonya needs to watch herself. Sometimes she takes on too big a challenge.”
There was a message here, but whether the too big challenge was the OK Center or him, Kirk wasn’t sure, and Sam didn’t seem inclined to say more.
“I’m sorry you won’t get to meet Wade this evening,” she said. “He’s in Dallas on business until tomorrow. By the way, he knows some people in the Rockets’ organization. If you’re interested in having someone speak to your basketball players, let us know.”
That could be the key to Toby Carson...and maybe to Germain, too, he thought excitedly. “Thanks, I will.”
After their brief conversation, he decided that of all the Brewsters, Sam impressed him most. Regal and beautiful, but with a wild streak below the surface. She was quite a woman.
Later Tonya’s grandfather invited Kirk to look over a collection of Texas memorabilia housed in the study. An excuse to get him away for a private talk, Kirk was sure.
The study was small but impressive, with bookshelves housing volumes on Texas history and glass cases containing artifacts from the state’s early days. Clint showed Kirk his collection, then gestured to one of two armchairs in front of a small fireplace.
Clint asked general questions about the center as befitted a social occasion. “I’m glad to help you out,” he said. “I grew up in a rough area, too—around the oil fields—so I know that kind of life. I’m a tough old coot myself.”
That surprised Kirk. Maybe he’d heard somewhere that Clint came from a modest background, but he hadn’t absorbed the information. In his mind, rich people had always had money. Hearing Clint Brewster talk about his roots gave him something to mull over.
“You need to come by one day and see what we’re doing,” Kirk said. “Especially to see what your granddaughter’s done. She’s contributed a lot”
“Tell me more about that,” Clint said.
As he listed Tonya’s accomplishments, he realized he wasn’t exaggerating for her grandfather’s benefit; he meant it. “She’s enthusiastic and creative,” he said, “and those qualities make a difference in a facility like ours.”
Clint nodded. “I imagine the OK Center has contributed as much to Tonya as she has to you.”
“What do you mean?” Kirk asked.
“You’ve given her a mission. Everyone needs one. Now Sam—hers is to save the world. Tonya wants to save the little piece of it around the OK Center.” Shrewd blue eyes assessed Kirk. “Your mission’s the same, I reckon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not a bad goal for either one of you.” He rose. “Let’s go back and join the crowd.”
When they returned to the living room, Kirk excused himself and went to look for a bathroom. The closest one was occupied, so he wandered down to a bedroom and into the bathroom next door to it.
Man, the bathroom was opulent A sunken tub with a whirlpool and gold faucets. Miniature bottles of perfume. Bars of soap in the shape of dolphins and swans. Even a bidet. He thought of the one and only bathroom at his grandmother’s house. Heck, she wouldn’t know what a bidet was for. He wasn’t absolutely certain himself. What the heck was he doing here in this enclave of privilege? He didn’t belong here any more than Tonya did on Magnolia Street. Yet he couldn’t make himself stay away from her.
He washed and dried his hands, feeling uncomfortable leaving the fancy satin-appliqued towel damp, then wandered back toward the living room. The bell rang as he neared the hallway, and he saw the butler open the door for a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, wavy hair and striking blue eyes.
Footsteps sounded, and Kirk turned to see Sam dash to the door and hurl herself into the man’s arms. “Wade! You’re a day early,” she said, looking up at him with such adoration that Kirk’s heart contracted.
“Couldn’t sleep without you,” Wade said, and kissed her as if he’d never let her go. Kirk stayed in the shadows, feeling like a voyeur but unwilling to interrupt their reunion. Wade drew back to look at Sam. His hands traveled over her face, then he reached behind her, freed her long blond hair from the clip that held it and buried his face in it. “Can we go home?” he asked.
She put her arm around his waist and urged him toward the living room. “After dinner.”
“Eat fast”
Kirk waited a few minutes, then strolled back to the living room. Tonya saw him and jumped up. “Come and meet Wade.”
The two shook hands. Kirk knew Wade Phillips was sizing him up. He didn’t mind; he was doing the same. He decided he liked the man.
“Kirk Butler,” Wade said slowly. “Tonya mentioned your name, but until I saw your face, I didn�
��t make the connection. You played in the NFL a while back, didn’t you?”
Kirk nodded. Recalling his football days wasn’t one of his favorite pastimes. “Yeah, I had a short career.”
“I remember. Tough way to end it.”
“It ended at the beginning,” Kirk said, feeling the expected pang. He noticed that Tonya was listening intently, her brow furrowed. She said nothing, though, and he was relieved.
“So now you’re doing some good for kids,” Wade said. “I admire that.”
“Someone has to help these kids. I imagine, in your business, you see a lot of the same things I do,” Kirk said.
“Yeah, both Sam and I see the raunchy side of life.” He patted Sam’s knee. “I tried to get her to stay out of it, but she’s one stubborn woman, aren’t you, darlin’?”
“You better believe it,” Sam said.
“It’s a family trait,” Tonya added, “but you already know that, don’t you, Kirk?”
Man, did he ever.
“Dinner is served,” the butler announced from the doorway.
Tonya slipped her hand in Kirk’s as they headed for the dining room. “Will you come home with me after dinner?” she asked softly.
Kirk nodded. Thinking of the night to come made his pulse accelerate. Silently, he echoed Wade’s request. Eat fast.
12
LATER THAT EVENING, Tonya threw open the door to her town house and flipped on the light “Welcome to the world of Tonya Brewster.”
Had he expected interior design perfection in this home? Brewster family sophistication? Knowing the inhabitant as well as he did by now, he shouldn’t have. This dwelling had a haphazard, “Tonya” look. Contemporary funk.
A roomy couch upholstered in off-white sat in the center of the room. Pillows in contrasting and sometimes clashing colors were piled over it helter-skelter. A one-eyed stuffed hippo in hot pink stared solemnly at him from the far end of the sofa. The coffee table boasted a pair of expensive-looking crystal birds, an art book from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and a garish plastic Donald Duck with Disney World stenciled on its back. On the floor beneath the coffee table, a lone sandal lay on its side beside a rubber mouse.
Tonya watched him look around. “This place won’t make Better Homes & Gardens,” she said.
“No, but if you.”
“Come and sit down,” she said, patting the couch, “and I’ll introduce you to—Oh, there you are.” A long-haired gray tabby kitten skittered across the room and jumped into her lap. Tonya held him up and rubbed her forehead against his. “This is Butler.”
Kirk raised a brow. “Named after your grandfather’s butler?”
“After you. He moved in the week I met you.”
Kirk threw back his head and laughed, then pulled Tonya into his lap and hugged her. “If I’d known you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”
“To what?”
“To kiss you.”
“You didn’t...wait long, I mean. Wanna do it again?”
“Mnnm-hmm.” He was already unbuttoning her blouse, already pulling it from her shoulders. Her skin was so soft. He buried his face between her breasts. “You smell like musk tonight,” he murmured. “Another surprise.”
“I’m just full of them,” she said between kisses, then unfastened his shirt.
He shrugged it off along with the rest of his clothes and kissed her again. He helped her undress and they cuddled together, kissing, touching. Here on the couch, with Tonya in his arms, surrounded by colorful pillows and the hippo glowering at him with its one eye, he felt happier than he could ever remember. He kissed Tonya’s shoulder and—“Ow!”
“What’s wrong?”
“There are three of us here, and one is a cat With claws.”
“Let’s see.” They sat up and she examined his back. “Poor baby, he really got you. Come in the bedroom, and I’ll make it better. Oh, and bring one of those little foil jobs...just in case.”
“Not in case. For sure.” He slipped the packet out of his pants and followed her into her room.
“You stay out,” she ordered, shaking her finger at the kitten as she shut the door. She pulled a patchwork quilt off the bed, tossed it into the corner and patted the bed. “Lie down. I’ll be right back.”
He lay on his stomach and closed his eyes. In a minute, he heard her return and felt something cold on his back, then the sting and odor of alcohol. “Jeez.”
“It’s just alcohol. Don’t be a baby.” Next she rubbed on something creamy, and the sting went away. “Want a massage?” she asked.
“If you’re using alcohol, no thanks.”
Her voice lowered to a seductive purr. “Musk oil.” She climbed onto the bed and straddled him. Something warm trickled down his spine, and she began to smooth it over his back. “Feel good?”
“Mmm.”
“Just relax.”
Her hands were like magic. She worked every muscle from his shoulders to the soles of his feet. Interspersed with the ministrations of her hands were the soft kisses she planted over him. Her breath tickled along his spine, his buttocks, the backs of his knees. She sighed with pleasure, telling him how beautiful his body was, how strong, how perfect. He floated in a sensual haze. No one had ever cared for him like this.
“Turn over.”
He obeyed, then, aroused and needy, he reached for her.
“Not yet. I’m not nearly finished with you.” Then she worked the same magic on his chest, his belly, his thighs. For the first time in his life, a woman had him completely in her power, reduced to panting breaths and moans of pleasure and longing. He thought dreamily that there was something to be said for occasionally relinquishing control.
At last, when he was certain he would explode, she took the condom from his hand and fitted it on him herself, then slid over his slickened body and took him inside her. She set the pace—slowly at first, lifting and lowering so his shaft slipped in and out, then faster, riding him hard, until they both exploded. Through half-closed eyes, he saw her rear back, her expression triumphant Then she collapsed on his chest, and they lay spent in each other’s arms.
After a long time, she eased away and sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes found the scar on his knee, and she traced it with gentle fingers. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all night” She propped a pillow against the headboard and sat, hugging her knees.
Kirk sat up, too. He might as well tell her everything. Or almost everything. “You know where I grew up. Right around the corner from the OK Center. My dad walked out when I was eight Which was okay, because he spent most of his time drinking beer, watching wrestling on TV and griping about his sorry lot in life. Mom got a job as a waitress in an all-night café, and I stayed with my grandmother after school. She was great” He smiled, remembering. “She’d help me with my homework, play Monopoly with me, bake gingerbread cookies. Those were the best years of my childhood.”
“And then?”
“Gram died when I was twelve.” He still hurt, remembering how quickly she’d gone, how devastated he’d been. Tonya must have sensed that because she reached for his hand and squeezed.
“After that I pretty much took care of myself. I wasn’t the best baby-sitter. I was angry at Gram for dying, angry at my mom for never being around. I started skipping school, hanging around the neighborhood. I was big for my age, and I attracted the attention of some of the tougher teenagers. They introduced me to all sorts of mischief—petty thievery, vandalism—and I was a fast learner.”
Beside him, Tonya shivered, and he glanced at her. “Not a pretty story, huh?”
“Not so far,” she admitted.
“You want the rest?”
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Go on.”
“I started with shoplifting. It was so easy, I couldn’t believe it. No one ever noticed. I didn’t take anything big, but I got a high out of it nevertheless. T
hen I graduated to bigger stuff. Burglary.”
He waited for a reaction, but although her eyes widened, Tonya said nothing, just continued holding his hand.
“The first house was a breeze, just like the shoplifting. I got away with a TV set and three radios. I figured I was on my way to cashing in. The second time wasn’t so easy. I got caught.”
Her hand tightened on his. “What happened?”
“I was damn lucky. The judge ordered me into a program for nonviolent juvenile offenders. It was a mentoring program like the one we’re starting. My mentor was a retired football player named Brad Mercer. He took a real interest in me and introduced me to the coach at my schooL After that, I was too busy with sports to go in for crime. When I got a football scholarship to the University of Texas, Brad gave me a silver belt buckle.”
“The one you always wear.”
“Yeah,” he said, “it’s my...talisman. Brad died of cancer my sophomore year. That hurt almost as much as the death of my grandmother. Brad was more than a mentor. He was a surrogate father, and I was a kid who badly needed one.
“Anyway,” Kirk went on, “I was good at football. Good enough to get a contract with the Philadelphia Eagles.” He grinned at Tonya’s amazed look. “It wasn’t for twenty million, but it paid a nice salary. Unfortunately, my career didn’t last long. One game.”
She scooted down the bed and bent over to kiss the scar. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Two linebackers came down on me—six hundred pounds of muscle. My knee was crushed. I felt pretty lousy, but at least the Eagles owed me my salary for the year. I came back to Houston and spent a year working at deadend jobs while I recuperated. Then I went to law school.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“So my diploma says.”
“But—”
“I worked in the D.A.’s office, prosecuting some of the same guys I used to hang out with, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to prevent crime, not deal with it after the fact I ran into Ramon. We’d played football together in high school, and he’d become friends with Ladonna while working in a neighborhood association. We started talking about what we could do for the kids in our old community. Our Kids is the result.”
Trouble With Tonya Page 15