No More Playas

by Brenda Jackson

  So why was a part of him aching to slide down between Carrie’s thighs and kiss her in what he discovered to be a very wonderful hot spot. Going down on her had been a first for him, and he couldn’t imagine doing anything so intimate with any other woman.

  For the next hour or so, Connor and Carrie stayed in bed and talked. Connor shared with her bits and pieces about his childhood, and Carrie told him things about hers she hadn’t shared with anyone but her brothers—namely her friendship with Serena, who looked after her like a younger sister.

  “I’m sorry you lost your friend, Carrie,” Connor said, cupping her face and leaning down to kiss her. Retelling the story had left her in tears, and he knew after listening to her story that there had been a special bond between her and the person named Serena.

  “Not having her around forced me to grow up and learn how to fend for myself,” Carrie said softly, remembering those days. “I became street smarter and street wiser, always remembering what Serena had taught me about being true to myself no matter what environment I was in.”

  He smiled. “It seems that this Serena was a smart person.”

  Carrie smiled back. “Yes, she was.” A lump formed in Carrie’s throat. “I owe her a lot.” She met his gaze and added softly, “And I owe you a lot, too. You didn’t have to—”

  Connor quickly leaned over to kiss any words of gratitude from her lips. He didn’t want to hear them. He wanted to do this instead, make love to her again. All he could think about was getting back inside of her and sharing earth-shattering passion with her.

  He broke off the kiss long enough to open the nightstand drawer and grab a condom packet he had placed there earlier. He tore it open and quickly sheathed himself with trembling fingers while struggling for breath. He was about to make love with a woman . . .

  He shook his head as those two words—make love—seared themselves into his brain, almost frying the cells inhabiting that space. A prickling of uncomfortable awareness flooded his in- sides once again. He didn’t make love to women; he had sex with them. He knew the difference. But for some reason, he couldn’t think of sex and Carrie within the same sentence. Hell, he was repulsed at the very thought.

  Convincing himself that he was undergoing a mind game, the thought that he was about to make love with a woman instead of just having sex . . . and added to that was the fact that for the first time he wasn’t fully in control of the situation wasn’t good. But it wasn’t anything he wanted to put a lot of thought on now. At the moment, his thoughts were too filled with Carrie, and all the things he intended to do with her before the night was over . . . and before they returned home to Indiana.

  And with that thought in his mind, he leaned down and kissed her again.

  24

  The Montgomerys

  “I understand you were out of town last week,” Lyle said.

  Carrie couldn’t help the sensuous memories that immediately washed over her. Those three days she had spent in Los Angeles with Connor, she had done more than spend some intimate time with him; she had been able to confront her past and face up to the sensual being inside of her without the recollections of the past robbing her of any sexual pleasure.

  And all thanks to Connor. If he only knew how much he had helped her in casting aside the ugliness she’d associated with sex. She had even been able to indulge in fantasies—something she’d never allowed herself to do before.

  She took a deep breath, calming herself before meeting Lyle’s gaze. She replied. “Yeah, I was.”

  “And where did you go?”

  That question was asked by Logan. She shook her head and set her diet soda on the table in front of her. Today was Thanksgiving. They had enjoyed a wonderful dinner and had been sitting around discussing politics, recent medical breakthroughs, and the best stock investments. Now her brothers’ attention had shifted to her and the out-of-town trip she’d taken. Her right to privacy had always seemed to be a foreign concept to them.

  Knowing she could tell them that where she went was none of their business and be through with it, she decided that the last thing she wanted was for them to worry about her. They were already pondering the reason why she had taken a leave of absence from work.

  She met Logan’s intense gaze. “I flew to Los Angeles to see someone I once knew.” She hadn’t exactly lied, but then she hadn’t told them the full truth either.

  “Anybody we know?” Lance asked, coming to sit across from her in a recliner.

  Before she could respond, Jeremiah Montgomery paused in the doorway. “Stop badgering your sister with all these questions. She’s old enough to take care of herself.”

  Carrie smiled over at her father. “Thanks Pop.”

  “We aren’t badgering her,” Lyle said, smiling, and coming to sit down beside her on the sofa. “We were merely asking for conversational purposes.”

  Jeremiah came into the room, his dominant presence the center of attention. He walked over to Carrie and patted her shoulder before moving off to stand in front of the polished mahogany fireplace mantel. “Then you need to change conversations. I don’t see her asking any of you what you did last week.”

  As her father had declared, the conversation changed. Lyle began telling everyone about his feelings on what two teams would be playing in the Super Bowl in January, and that he had made plans to be right there in Detroit with them.

  Everyone was about to add their two cents, opposing views no doubt, when the phone rang. Carrie quickly walked out of the room to the small hallway to answer it. She returned moments later and said, “It’s for you, Lance. Your agent.”

  Lance frowned. Why was Carl calling him here? And on the holiday? The man knew his rules about family time. He had even turned his mobile phone off. “Excuse me.” He walked over to Carrie and took the phone out of her hand. “Thanks.” He then moved into the hallway for privacy. “Carl, you know I don’t like getting calls on—”

  “I thought you might like getting this one,” the older man quickly said.

  “A woman claiming to be Asia Fowler’s sister called. Said her name was Claire Fowler. I didn’t give her your number, of course, but I did get hers to pass on to you.”

  “Claire Fowler tried contacting me?” Lance asked in surprise. He had met the woman the night of the New York Times party, and for some reason had immediately liked her, since she had been the one to convince Asia to dance with him.

  “Yes, she called yesterday but I only retrieved the message today. If you got a pen or pencil, I’ll give you her number.”

  Moments after ending the call with Carl, Lance was calling Claire. A soft voice that reminded him so much of Asia’s answered the phone. “Hello.”

  He got straight to the point. “This is Lance Montgomery, and I understand you tried reaching me.”

  “Yes, Dr. Montgomery, how are you?”

  “Fine and you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m going to be in Chicago this weekend and was hoping we could meet and talk.”

  Lance quickly wondered what they needed to talk about, but then just as quickly he decided he didn’t care. He was about to move full speed ahead in his pursuit of Asia, and he didn’t give a damn who knew it. And no one would talk him out of it. “Yes, a meeting is possible. In fact I look forward to it.”

  “Can you talk now?”

  A deep stirring erupted in the pit of Carrie’s stomach. She quickly glanced across the room at Logan and Lyle. They had looked over at her the moment her cell phone had started ringing. “Yes, I can talk,” she said to Connor. “Hold for a second.”

  She then glanced over at her brothers and father and said. “Excuse me for a moment.” She passed Lance in the hallway, who was talking on the phone, and went into the kitchen. “Okay, I’m back. Did you find out anything new?”

  “No, I haven’t found out anything new. The reason I called was because I had you on my mind.”

  His words made a tiny flutter erupt in her chest. He had been on her mind, as well. “
Thanks for thinking about me. How was your Thanksgiving?”

  “It was nice. And yours?”

  “It was nice, too.” Carrie hated this, the strained but polite conversation. There hadn’t been anything polite about what they had done in L.A. Even now her body shimmered in heat at the memory of how after one of their showers he had smoothed lotion all over her body, escalating her to an intensely aroused state.

  “I’d like to see you, Carrie.”

  Carrie wished he hadn’t said that, because heaven help her, she wanted to see him again, too. “When?”

  “Tonight. Can you get away for a little while?”

  Carrie smiled, thinking of her brothers, but she knew that Pop could handle them. “Yes, I can get away for a little while.”

  “Good. We can either meet somewhere or you can come here to my place if you’d like.”

  Carrie said, “I prefer your place.”

  “Okay.” He rattled off his address and then said, “I’ll be waiting.”

  Connor could feel the spike in his blood pressure, an actual rush of blood through his veins, the moment he heard the doorbell. He closed his eyes briefly. Carrie had pushed him beyond any limits he had ever set with women.

  His mind flashed back to the time they had spent together in L.A. It had been perfect. The times they had remained in the hotel suite had been idyllic, cozy, and intimate. In addition to making love, they had talked about a lot of things including his reason for leaving the police force. And he had discovered a lot about her and her work and admired her dedication to it.

  Connor answered the door, and there Carrie was, like always, the epitome of his fantasies. She was wearing a short top that didn’t expose as much of her belly as the others had, but her leather jacket didn’t completely hide her exposed flesh. Then there were the oh-so-tight corduroy pants she was wearing.

  His gaze raked the entire length of her body before returning to her belly and then inching a little higher to her chest. The top she wore hugged her bodice, lifting her breasts into perfect mounds. He vividly recalled tasting them, taking a swollen tip into his mouth and—

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  Her breathless voice intruded into his thoughts, and he looked deeply into her eyes. In them shone the same desire and need that he felt.

  He leaned over, brushed a kiss across her lips, took her hand in his, and then whispered. “It will be my pleasure.”

  Connor kissed her the moment she was inside his apartment, a kiss designed to give maximum pleasure, and with each circular motion of his tongue inside her mouth, licking, sucking, and possessing, she felt her middle ache and felt a deep heated rush through all parts of her body. The throbbing need in the lower part of her stomach could only be relieved when she squeezed her legs tighter together.

  When he finally released her mouth, she shook her head to clear it and discovered that had been a waste of her time. The look in his eyes inflamed her all over again, made her body tingle .. . especially her breasts. She could recall the last time he had touched them, and they ached to be touched again. He had cupped them in his hands, then kissed the nipples, sucked them, licked them, had flooded her with sensations she hadn’t known existed.

  “I want you, Carrie.”

  His words did more than linger in the air. They charged the atmosphere. Made breathing almost difficult. She actually felt blood surge through her. Hot blood. He took a step back, not to give her space but to study her, and he reminded her of a hungry cat sizing up his prey. Getting ready to devour it.

  “Take off your top for me, sweetheart.”

  She dropped her purse to the floor and proceeded to do what he asked, pulling her short top over her head. She hadn’t worn a bra, so her breasts were revealed the moment she tossed the top aside. His hot stare was causing intense heat to settle around her nipples, and her entire body shuddered with a need only he could quench.

  He picked her up, gathering her into his arms. At that moment, her breath deserted her while he carried her into his bedroom then placed her gently down on his bed. He unfastened her pants then slipped his hands beneath her hips to tug them off of her.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath when he realized she hadn’t worn any panties either. She watched as he quickly began tearing off his T-shirt and jeans. Then he reached into a night- stand drawer and pulled out a condom. Her heart slammed against her chest as she watched him put it on. Then his attention was drawn back to her.

  He returned to the bed and slipped his hand beneath her hips, lifted her and leaned over and dipped his tongue into her moist center. The moment his tongue touched her, stroked her, the room seemed to swirl. Her mind became mush.

  When his body eased over hers, she felt herself melt into the mattress as more sensations racked her body, and when he slipped inside of her, the room began spinning all over again. Just when she thought she would regain her equilibrium, he began moving inside of her, soaring her to new heights. She automatically arched her back and thrust her breasts forward as her world once again exploded.

  And she felt his body exploding, as well. She heard the guttural moan that was torn from his throat, felt his thrusts get harder, more powerful, every shudder as he went deeper. She continued to lose herself in every sensation he evoked, driving her over any sexual limits ever established.

  A cry tore from her lips and, as she began drowning in a sea of pleasure, she felt it, a sense of oneness, an intimacy that went beyond just the sharing of their bodies. She didn’t know if he felt it, but she did, and as sensations continued to rip through her, she sank deeper and deeper in love with him and deeper into the throes of ultimate satiation.

  Later they simply lay there, in each other’s arms. Carrie was sprawled over Connor’s chest, listening to the slow pounding of his heartbeat. She was aware of the slow, gentle caress of his hand to her back. His touch always soothed her.

  “Miller called after I talked to you.”

  A cold sense of dread suddenly clutched Carrie’s middle. She didn’t want to lift her head and look at him. She just wanted to lie there and listen to his heartbeat under her cheek. “And?”

  “And he’s checking out a new lead. It seems someone showed up to see Anderson at the nursing home. A woman.”

  Carrie drew in a breath. “The same one who’s claiming to be his sister?”

  “Possibly. That’s what Miller is checking out.”

  She lifted up and fixed her gaze on his face. “When will we know something?”

  He reached out and took a strand of her hair in his fingers and began absently toying with it. “Hopefully soon.” His hand left her hair and stroked the side of her face, the outline of her lips. Both he and Miller had an idea who the woman was but he wasn’t ready to share his suspicions with Carrie, at least not until they were confirmed. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Carrie. Let me handle things. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he whispered huskily.

  He bent his head and their lips met. At that moment, nothing mattered.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Montgomery,” the restaurant manager greeted Lance, smiling. “Your guest has already arrived,” he continued and proceeded to escort Lance over to the table where Claire Fowler sat waiting.

  “Thanks, Baron, for handling everything and making sure she was taken care of until I got here.”

  “It was my absolute pleasure, sir.” When they had reached the table, Baron’s smile widened when he said, “I’ll send someone over to take care of your needs.” He then walked away.

  Lance’s attention immediately focused on the woman who had been sitting alone while waiting on him to arrive. For the second time he thought that, like Asia, she was an extremely beautiful woman. He extended his hand. “Dr. Fowler, it’s good seeing you again.”

  She grinned as she accepted his hand in a firm handshake. “Same here, Dr. Montgomery.” Her grin then widened. “I think it will be easier if we become just Claire and Lance.”

  Lance chuckled
as he took his chair. “You’re probably right.”

  A waiter quickly descended upon them, poured water into their glasses and took their drink orders after giving them menus. Lance glanced up after the man walked off. He didn’t need to look at the menu to know what he wanted, since he ate here often and this was the place he had suggested to Claire when she called. Besides, he was anxious to know why Asia’s sister had wanted to meet with him.

  After they had dispensed with a few pleasant preliminaries about the weather, the official kick-off to the holiday shopping season, and their opinions on who would eventually make it to the Super Bowl in a couple of months, Lance cut to the chase and asked, “Why did you want to meet with me, Claire?”

  The woman didn’t flinch at his directness. Instead she leveled him a look and said, “Because I’ve decided that you’re the lesser of the two evils, not that I think Sean is a bad person, but I don’t think he’s capable of making Asia completely happy.”

  Lance leaned back in his chair, surprised yet grateful for her opinion. “And you think that I can?”

  “Yes, once she realizes that you really do love her.”

  Before any question could form on Lance’s lips, she gave him a quick reply. “And yes, I believe that you love her. Although I’m as equally certain that for a man like you, discovering that fact was a bitter pill to swallow, which I gather is the reason for your present problems.”