No More Playas

by Brenda Jackson

  Asia’s laugh was laced with anger. “He even wants me to believe that he loves me.”

  Claire shot her sister an incredulous look. “He told you that?”

  “Yes. Can you believe it?”

  Claire knew that it didn’t matter whether she believed him or not. It was apparent that Asia didn’t. She shook her head. Lance Montgomery had screwed up big time, but unlike Asia, Claire believed the man was in love with her sister. She had been present that night at the New York Times party. She had watched from the sidelines the moment he had taken Asia into his arms to dance. She had seen anger, bitterness, and hostility etched in her sister’s face but the only thing she had seen in Lance’s features had been love. She hadn’t believed it that night, nor had she understood it. But Asia had explained everything, and now there was no doubt in her mind that what she’d assumed was true.

  Lance was in love with Asia, and he wasn’t playing a game.

  “Now you see what I’m up against?”

  Asia’s question intruded her thoughts. Yes, she saw what Asia was up against, but she doubted that Asia truly did. If her sister thought Lance was relentless before, there would be no stopping him now in his determination to get her back. No wonder he had sent a dozen roses to Asia practically every other day for the past couple of weeks. That was probably just a small part of his strategy. “And what do you think you’re up against?” She decided to let her sister answer her own question.

  Asia crossed the room and sat back down. “A conceited-ass jerk who has convinced himself that I’m in love with him. Can you believe his gall? He actually had the nerve to show up at my conference two weeks ago in Atlanta and manipulate a limo ride with me to a dinner function.” Asia snorted. “He said I didn’t love Sean and that he was the one I loved and had the nerve to ask me to prove to him that I didn’t love him.”

  Claire inwardly smiled. The good doctor certainly had her sister rattled. “And how are you supposed to do that?”

  “By spending a week with him, somewhere secluded, just the two of us. In his arrogant mind, he actually believes during that week that I’m going to realize and accept my true feelings for him. He actually dared me to go along with it.”

  Claire considered Lance’s dare for a moment. She didn’t want to tell Asia that she had a feeling at the end of the week, after being alone with Lance, that her sister would realize that same thing. What Lance had done—or what Asia was convinced Lance had done—had caused her deep intense pain. But in Asia’s present state of mind, she couldn’t see that if she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t be hurting this much.

  Claire said, “So, are you going to take him up on his dare?”

  Asia looked aghast. “Of course not! There is nothing to prove. I’m marrying Sean.”

  Claire gestured toward her sister’s hand and asked, “Okay, then back to my original question, where is your ring?”

  Asia told Claire about the article David had mailed to Sean and about Sean’s visit to Lance. “So now Sean thinks that perhaps I don’t know my own mind and need time to make sure I’m making the right decision in marrying him. He’s given me until New Year’s Eve to think things through.”

  “And will you?”

  “There’s nothing to think about. What I feel for Sean is solid. More than one marriage has begun with friendship, and I know that I can grow to love Sean the way he deserves.”

  Claire desperately wanted to argue but decided now wasn’t the time and it would be pointless. Asia was convinced Sean was who she needed. She would settle for passiveness instead of passion, friendship rather than love. “So, what are your plans while you’re waiting for New Year’s Eve?”

  A smiled rolled around Asia’s lips. “I need to finish that book I’m working on and have decided after Thanksgiving to go in seclusion for a few weeks to complete it. That way I can enjoy the holidays without feeling guilty about not having it finished. When Sean and I get together New Year’s Eve, we can sit down and spend time planning our wedding.”

  “You’re going in seclusion?”

  Asia chuckled upon seeing the look of disbelief on her sister’s face. “Yes. I’ve done it before, and it works for me. I’ll be alone with no one to bother me, no interruptions, and no reason to waste time.” Her voice vibrated with excitement when she added, “And don’t try making me feel guilty about leaving you alone for two weeks. You have plans to go visit Tessa in Birmingham before the holidays anyway.”

  Claire nodded. Tessa was one of her dearest friends from college. “And you’ll be gone for two weeks?”

  “Yes.”

  Several ideas popped into Claire’s head and she chewed the corner of her lips as her mind dared her to go with one of them. “When will you leave?”

  Asia smiled. “As soon as arrangements can be made. When I return to New York after Thanksgiving, I plan to check with Melissa about a few writers’ retreats. Considering all the cold weather I’ve endured this winter, a place somewhere in sunny Florida sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.” Claire cocked her head as another thought popped into her mind, one she really needed thinking about before acting on. She moistened her lips. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it, but. . .

  She looked at Asia as she took another sip of her tea. More than anything, she wanted her sister to be happy and it would be worth the risk. Claire paused, letting the idea sink in deeper and beginning to like it when she thought of all the possibilities. At some point, Asia had to face up to her true feelings for Lance Montgomery. If she really didn’t love him, then there would be no harm done, but if she really did and she got a chance to spend time with him in some secluded place, then . . .

  Claire pressed a finger against her mouth. God forbid, but she was contemplating trying her hand at something she had never done before: matchmaking.

  22

  Carrie and Connor

  Carrie had just sat down to the table to enjoy the meal she had ordered from room service when the suite door opened and Connor walked in. She glanced up, surprised. “Connor, I hadn’t expected you back until after midnight or so.”

  Evidently, Connor thought as he leaned against the closed door. It was nearly nine o’clock, and he had a feeling that she would have ordered her meal a lot sooner otherwise, since she had a problem eating in front of him.

  “Miller had plans, so we decided to call it an early night. I see you’re having a rather late dinner,” he said, pushing away from the door and crossing the room to the table, where she sat. He glanced down at her food. “Looks good.”

  She glared at him. “Yes, it does, and I’d like to enjoy it, if you don’t mind.”

  He shrugged and one side of his lips quirked in a half smile. “No, I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

  Carrie took a deep breath and let it out before she spoke. “Considering the fact that you’re standing over me, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh.” He moved away from the table to sit down on the love seat. “Is this far away enough?”

  Carrie’s glare deepened. “No.”

  “And why not, Carrie? Why do you have a problem eating in front of me? You assured me that you know how to eat properly, so what’s your hang-up?”

  “I don’t have any hang-ups!”

  “And I say that you do.”

  When her lips began quivering, he knew he had definitely hit a nerve. For reasons beyond his understanding, she did have a problem eating in front of him, and he wanted to know why.

  At any rate as they stared at each other, he could see the battle lines had been drawn. She could retreat and not tell him anything, but he wouldn’t let her do that. For once he planned to find out what was going on with her, since for some reason this issue was one that annoyed the hell out of him.

  “Fine,” Carrie said, standing and throwing her cloth napkin down on the table. “I just won’t eat.”

  “The hell you won’t.” He was across the room and in her face in a flash. “I want to
know what’s going on here, dammit.”

  “There’s nothing going on. I can pick and choose my dinner partners, and I refuse—”

  “Not this time. I want to know why you’re so afraid to eat in front of me.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are, too!”

  “Think what you want.” She made a move to walk around him, and he reached out and touched her shoulder. He snatched his hand back when he felt her flinch, like his very touch revolted her.

  Connor saw it in her eyes—stark fear—and it suddenly made his stomach clench. And then somehow he knew. Her refusal to eat in front of him had nothing to do with him personally, but was connected to some evil in her past that she hadn’t let go of. “Tell me, Carrie,” he whispered softly. “Tell me. And believe no matter what, I would never hurt you,” he added quietly. “Please tell me.”

  Confused by emotions that she was suddenly feeling, Carrie closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d reacted this way. Seeing those photographs as well as coming face-to-face with Simon again after all these years had stirred up the heinous memories she’d tried so hard to put behind her.

  “Please tell me, Carrie.”

  She slowly met Connor’s gaze. What she saw reflected in his eyes sent a warm feeling through her. There was no sickened desire and lust revealed in his eyes, nor was there loathing and pity. What she saw was compassion and desire of another kind, one she didn’t understand but knew it was different from the look that had always been in Simon’s eyes.

  She swallowed. The lump was so thick in her throat, for a moment she didn’t think she could get the words out. “I knew exactly on which nights he would come to my room,” she said softly, her voice unsteady. “Those would be the evenings when he would sit across from me at the table and watch me eat.”

  She closed her eyes again as if to close off the memories. “I hated those times. It was like he got turned on from watching my mouth move, seeing me swallow my food. The look in his eyes while I ate always frightened me because I knew what would happen later, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

  Her words tore into Connor, and in his mind he could envision her, an innocent eight-year-old having to endure a pervert like Anderson. She had been at an age where someone should have been protecting her, but no one had. His heart hurt for her so much, he ached. In just the short time he had known her, he had witnessed her fragility as well as her strength. This was one of her fragile moments, and for some reason a part of him wanted to replace it with his strength. He wanted her to feed off of it, use it, and be consumed with it.

  He was hard-pressed to understand why Carrie Montgomery had gotten under his skin, but she had. He could admit that somehow she had invaded his world in a way no other woman had, and all he wanted to do was take her into his arms, hold her and remove her pain, erase the bad memories and replace them with good ones.

  The silence between them lengthened, and the only sound that could be heard was the steady beating of their hearts. Connor knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do.

  He reached out and took her hand in his, expecting resistance, but to his surprise, she didn’t pull away although he felt her fingers trembling beneath his. “I told you earlier that I wouldn’t hurt you, Carrie. Will you trust me to keep my word?”

  Carrie met his eyes, studied the strong lines of his jaw and the steadiness of his gaze. Other than her brothers and father, she had never fully placed her complete trust in another man. She had tried with Ethan and hadn’t been able to let him get close to her the way he’d desired, and after months of frustration he’d eventually given up and ended the relationship. She hadn’t been able to feel this closeness, this peculiar connection that she felt with Connor, which was something she didn’t quite understand when most of the time they seemed to be at odds with each other.

  But they weren’t at odds now. They seemed to be on the same wavelength. It was as if he could feel her emotions, read her thoughts, and was the calm behind her storm. She looked down at the hand encompassing hers. Warm hands, strong hands, trusting hands.

  “Carrie?”

  Her name whispered softly from his lips caused her to glance up. “Trust me.”

  Connor wanted to do more than hold her hand. He wanted to hold her. Gather her into his arms and take her pain away, shelter her from all the ugliness she had ever endured. “Trust me,” he whispered again.

  Oddly, Carrie suddenly knew that she could trust him. She believed he would find the person responsible for resurrecting all these painful memories. And she also believed that he would be the one person to remove those ugly fears from her mind. But still, a part of her held back. “I’m afraid to trust you,” she said, fighting back the sob that formed in her throat. Her voice broke.

  He leaned down closer, bringing his face just inches from hers and whispered, “Try.”

  She looked directly into the darkness of his eyes, and what she saw there caused a calm to settle over her. She felt her heart pounding when his lips moved closer to hers, and for the first time she was going to let a man kiss her without resisting him. More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her.

  Connor tried to slow the thunder of his own heart, knowing this would be a very special moment for the both of them. He had never been this understanding, this patient with any woman but felt compelled, driven, destined to do so with her. His fingers on hers tightened when he inched his lips even closer, filled with an overwhelming need to taste her, and to assure her that all men weren’t the same.

  When their lips were mere breaths apart, he instinctively snaked out his tongue and caressed hers, moistened them, savored them. He suddenly felt her lips tense but then her mouth relaxed and moments later, he actually heard her moan.

  The moment she released a deep sigh, he entered her mouth, taking it slow but thorough, gently pulling her closer, wanting her to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his. And when he felt her returning the kiss, became aware of the passion that was slowly inching through her body to consume his, he fought back the urge to plunge into her mouth deeper and kiss her with the hunger he felt. Instead he remained on the verge, although it was killing him. He wanted to place her needs before his own. So he battled for control and put in place his restraints.

  Carrie wanted to get closer to Connor. She had never allowed a man to kiss her this way, and she hadn’t known such an act could be done with such tenderness. With Connor she didn’t feel threatened or fearful. What she did feel was a sense of urgency to continue to kiss him, savor the warmth of his tongue as it did such delicious things inside of her mouth. She hadn’t known the touch of a man could bring her more pleasure than pain, intense satisfaction instead of shame and grief.

  She gasped, and their lips parted when she felt him sweep her into his arms. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. She looked at him as a tense silence settled over the room. “Now you will eat in front of me,” he whispered softly, walking toward the table with her nestled gently in his arms.

  He pulled out the chair with his foot and sat down. Cradling her in his lap he reached for the fork and begin feeding her, forcing her to stare at him with every morsel she took into her mouth. She saw the desire in his eyes as she chewed her food, but what she was seeing was so different from what had been in Simon’s leer years ago. She didn’t feel any fear. But she began feeling an awakening of some sort in the pit of her stomach and a slow simmer that started inching toward her crotch.

  “Mmm,” she groaned. Seconds ticked off into minutes as he fed her everything on her plate, in between sips of her ice tea. When that was finished, she swallowed hard when he turned her around in his lap to face him. The position put her just where she wanted to be—close to his lips. Before she could take the initiative and capture those lips, he leaned closer and kissed her deeply, causing a shimmer of sensations to flood her. At that instant, desire took over, and she kissed him back.

  Connor knew he had to get a grip or e
lse he would be pushing everything off the table and taking her right there on it, and that was not what he wanted. He needed to go slow with her, prove to her that he could be trusted and not rush her into doing anything she might regret later. But there was a magnetic force that was at work, generating energy, fusing their mouths, spreading desire to a degree that wasn’t normal for him. He knew he had to pull away.

  He reluctantly broke the kiss. “Carrie,” he breathed against her lips.

  “Mmm?”

  “Will you have breakfast with me in the morning?”

  She reared back and met his gaze. His eyes were intense and very, very dark. Suddenly, breakfast, she thought, wasn’t the only thing she wanted to have with him in the morning.

  She shrugged her shoulders and said softly, “It depends on what’s on the menu.”

  With her statement spoken so seductively, Connor’s imagination filled the spaces between her words, filling his head with all sorts of visions. “Let’s decide on what entrees we’ll try out in the morning.” Connor knew he couldn’t treat her like he treated other women. For some reason, she was pulling emotions out of him that he wasn’t used to feeling, up close and personal.

  She inched her lips close to his. “You won’t let me sleep through breakfast, will you?”

  Connor slid her off his lap and stood to his feet, placing her in front of him. “Not bloody likely.” He kissed her again, wondering how in the hell he would last until morning. But he needed to give her that time but . . . maybe not, now that she wrapped both her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, stroke for stroke.

  Moments later, fighting for control, he lifted his head. He had a feeling that breakfast was definitely going to be an unforgettable treat. As much as it killed him to do so, he took a step back. “I want you to be sure, Carrie, so sleep on it.”

  23

  At six in the morning, Connor still hadn’t slept a wink since walking away from Carrie hours ago. He had taken a cold shower then lay naked in bed staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours.