Her Little Black Book

by Brenda Jackson

“I suppose.”

  “Masterses have a tendency to do that at times.”

  Lake took a sip of his drink and then asked, “Were you?”

  Grey smiled. “I probably was, but then my focus was on trying to keep Brandy alive.”

  Lake nodded. Brandy’s cousins had hired Grey as Brandy’s bodyguard when she began receiving threats against her life.

  “So how slow are you moving things now?” Grey asked.

  Lake couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d seen her, a week ago today. He had taken her to a movie and had returned her home and left her there … without kissing her good-bye. At least not what he considered as a real kiss. That had been hard. It had been even harder not picking up the phone to call her whenever he thought about her. She wanted space, and he was giving it to her. But he didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like the ache he felt every time he thought about her or the nights he had lain in bed missing her.

  “Too slow. I think it’s time for me to start speeding things up a little.”

  Grey laughed. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Ron knew he had decisions to make, and the first one would be regarding Ashira. He and Barbara had arrived back in Orlando a few days ago, and he knew what he had to do. First he would break off with Ashira, and then he would tell Barbara the truth. Chances were he would lose her, but he couldn’t continue deceiving her, living a lie.

  And then he planned on getting help. Already he had gone on the Internet and researched his problem and had gathered quite a bit of information on sexual addiction. He had discovered that it was among the least talked about and least understood addictions, but it was a reality that affected thousands of people.

  The good thing was that there was help to those who wanted it. He had an appointment with a psychotherapist next week and actually looked forward to the visit. Knowing there was a chance of recovery gave him hope.

  He rubbed his hand down his face. He hadn’t seen or talked to Ashira since Hawaii. He never gave a thought to visiting her hotel room after that special night with Barbara. The only woman he had wanted to be with had been his wife, but he was afraid that desire would soon wear off if he didn’t get the help he needed.

  Later that evening after staying after hours for a staff meeting, Ron was making his way across the parking lot to his car. It was Friday and just beginning to get dark. Most of the students had already left campus to start their weekend, so the parking lot was basically deserted. He thought about the stop he had to make before he got home. He had called Ashira and told her to expect his visit. He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was annoyed that he hadn’t called sooner or that he hadn’t tried contacting her any more while they were in Hawaii. He offered no excuses and gave no apologies, which he knew probably angered her even more.

  Ron knew Ashira would make ending things with her difficult. She had enjoyed being the center of his attention, had liked getting all the things he bought for her, liked thinking she controlled him with the kind of kinky sex he liked. But all that would have to end. And then later tonight when he got home, he would tell Barbara everything, especially the fact that he had acknowledged his problem and was seeking professional help. He hoped. He prayed that she would forgive him and give him another chance to be the husband to her that he believed that he could be.

  He was about to open his car door when he heard someone call his name. The voice was hard to discern, and he turned around. He looked at the person standing almost five feet away from him, saw the gun flash, and heard a loud popping sound at the same time he felt a sudden pain slice through his body. The last thing he remembered was losing his grip on reality and succumbing to icy darkness.

  Knowing when to admit you were wrong was everything, Courtney thought as she stood in front of Lake’s door. Doubt had messed with her mind, had convinced her that there was no possible way a man could see her one day and decide without exchanging one word with her, that she was the woman for him. Typically, relationships between men and women didn’t develop that way, but she now accepted that with some people, anything was possible.

  Lake Masters, she believed, was one of those people. He saw what he wanted. He went after it. And he didn’t give up until he got it. His strategy had been so smooth, as suave as anything could be and as persuasive as it could get. She had put up a shield to protect her heart, but he’d found an opening and had wiggled his way inside anyway. The man worked fast. He was definitely thorough. He was capable of stripping you of your defenses. And she had come to a decision that she wanted to be both his friend and lover, and it no longer mattered to her in what order they came. She would eventually become both. She knew that she loved him.

  Taking a deep breath, she rang his doorbell. He wasn’t expecting her. Would probably be surprised to see her. She hoped he would welcome her inside and hear what she had to say.

  The door opened and he stood there, as sexy as any man could be. He was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt. And as she scanned lower, she saw he was in his bare feet. He looked at home. He looked mouth-wateringly good. He looked like the man she wanted.

  “Courtney?”

  Just from the sound of her name off his lips, she felt a tightening in her stomach, a sudden throb between her legs. Boy, she had it bad. She moved her gaze back up to his face to stare at him, and he stared straight back at her. She drew in a deep breath, cleared her throat. “Hi, Lake,” she finally said. “May I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  He moved aside, and when she passed him, she caught his scent. Ultra male. Sexy as hell. She turned to face him when he closed the door behind her. “I hope I’m not catching her at a bad time. Maybe I should have called first.”

  “No, you’re not catching me at a bad time, and as far as calling first, you don’t have to do that. You’ll always be welcome to my home at any time, Courtney.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She thought their words sounded too formal, almost stilted. And she knew why. She had requested friendship, and he was giving her just what she wanted, just what she had asked for.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  She shook her head. “No thanks.” And then glanced around, “You have a nice place.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She saw his lips lift and knew what he thought was funny. “We’re a bunch of nice people today, aren’t we?” she said, chuckling. “All nice and polite.”

  “How would you prefer I be?”

  She met his gaze. Understood what he was asking her. His voice had changed when he’d asked the question. It had lowered. It had a seductive tone and was sending shivers all through her body.

  “Courtney?”

  She inhaled deeply as she crossed the room, pressed as closed to him as her body could, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Naughty. I prefer for you to be as naughty as you can get.”

  She saw the flicker of a yearning in his eyes. “What about your friendship thing?”

  Arching against him, she felt his hardness. It was thick, engorged. She reached her hand down and cupped him. Heard his sharp intake of breath when she did so. Then she began fondling him through his jeans. “I want to be both your friend and your lover, Lake. Tonight I need to be your lover. Please let me.”

  The yearning in his eyes turned to heated desire and then a scorching promise. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

  “Yes,” she said, stretching up against him. “But tomorrow is Saturday, so I don’t have to worry about being physically able to go to work. So don’t hold anything back.”

  He bent his head, came close to her lips, and whispered, “I won’t.”

  And then he was scooping her into his arms while kissing her, taking her straight into what she figured was his bedroom. It wasn’t. It was a game room. She noticed that fact the moment he pressed her back against an air hockey table.
She took only a minute to glance around to see all the other equipment in the room, and she knew that before the night was over, he would take her on every single piece. Tonight he intended to be extremely naughty.

  He didn’t waste time removing her clothes, tossing them out of his way. Then he removed his and did likewise. She held his gaze when he stood between her open legs. “We’re about ready to play?” she asked.

  He gave her a smile that intensified the throbbing in her womanly core. “Yeah, we’re about ready to play. You know the rules?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  His smile widened. “The object of the game is for me to shoot the puck into your goal. We’re going to keep this simple. This is going to be the puck,” he said, easing one of her hands down to touch his manhood. “And this,” he said, reaching out and teasing her hot, wet womanhood with the tips of his fingers, “is the goal.”

  She held his heated gaze. Barely got the words out when she asked, “Is it?”

  “You betcha. It is definitely my goal.”

  She swallowed deeply. “So let the games begin.”

  His manhood was erect, pointed, ready at the entrance of her core. A shiver touched her when she felt the head of it right there, primed, hot and ready. And then he thrust into her in a way that totally stole her breath. She had to inhale deep to catch it again. And then he was playing his game, one he was evidently good at. His puck continuously, nonstop, over and over again, hit his goal.

  He held on to her hips to make sure she stayed immobile on the table and she couldn’t do anything but lie there and let him hit his mark time and time again, reveling in his skill. But she decided to show him she was a worthy opponent. She managed to lift her face up, and she stuck out her tongue and caught his lips.

  He opened his mouth on a breathless sigh and she went in, determined to seduce him with her tongue, make him feel as powerless as he’d made her feel earlier. She greedily lapped him up, drank him in, tasted him like he was the best dessert she’d ever eaten. And when he broke free of her lips, threw his head back, and yelled, she knew what was coming. They both were. She felt his hot liquid shoot deep inside her, meeting his goal, and she couldn’t do anything but allow a similar shudder to take over her body, surrender to him and to the passion he had created for them.

  It seemed everything around them shook. She actually felt like the sky was falling. And sensations tore through her in a way that had her body bursting into flames. He leaned down and captured her mouth again, kissing her hungrily, and she returned his hunger in kind.

  He pulled away from her mouth, and when he was able to catch his breath, he whispered hotly against her moist lips, “Now we try the billiards table.”

  The ringing of the phone awakened Lake. Courtney stirred in his arms when he reached to answer it. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. He smiled, remembering all the games they had played. He and Courtney had had reason to make it an early night. “Yes?”

  “Lake, sorry to bother you. This is Sonya. I got your phone number from Brandy and Grey.”

  “That’s fine,” he said in a low voice as he pulled himself up slightly, careful not to wake Courtney. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m trying to find Courtney, and her cell phone is off. I was wondering if perhaps you knew where she was?”

  Lake smiled. Yes, he knew where she was. “Courtney is here with me,” he said, liking the way it sounded.

  “Thank God. I need to speak with her, please. It’s a family emergency.”

  It was then that he heard the frantic sound of Sonya’s voice. Something was wrong. “Sure. Hold on.”

  He gave Courtney a few shakes before her eyes opened. She looked at him and smiled, was about to wrap her arms around his neck when he said, “Sonya is on the phone. She wants to talk to you. Said it’s a family emergency.”

  Courtney pulled herself up in bed and quickly took the phone he handed her. “Sonya? What’s wrong?”

  Lake didn’t know what Sonya was saying, but he saw the widening of Courtney’s eyes, the tears that suddenly appeared in them, and how the hand holding the phone began trembling. Courtney then threw the phone down in the bed, covered her face with her hand, and burst into tears.

  Lake pulled her into his arms as he quickly picked up the phone. “Sonya? What the hell is going on? What did you tell her?”

  He heard Sonya’s own broken voice. “It’s her father, Lake. Uncle Ron has been shot. He’s been taken to surgery, and it doesn’t look good.”

  24

  Detective Rick Blair found an unobtrusive spot in the hospital to glance down at his pad and study his notes. A college professor had been shot on campus while getting into his car. Blair had dismissed the possibility of a robbery when he arrived at the scene. The man was still wearing his Rolex watch, and he’d had a wallet full of cash that was still intact. Yes, Blair was convinced robbery had not been the motive. It was clear to see that the professor had been on someone’s shit list and that someone wanted him dead. Who? An angry student, perhaps? A betrayed wife? A disgruntled lover? The husband or boyfriend of a lover? Or possibly someone to whom the professor owed money? He shook his head. The possibilities were unlimited.

  He glanced up when his partner, Theo Hollis, appeared. Theo, a young upstart, had been asking questions and taking statements. Another teacher, the one who’d found Professor Andrews slumped over his car in the parking lot, said he’d heard shots just moments before seeing a light-colored car racing away from the crime scene. It had been too dark to identify the make and model of the vehicle. But he did say the driver appeared to be a woman. That was all the information the man could provide. Too sketchy to base anything definitively.

  “Aren’t you glad this is your last month on the force?” Hollis said, grinning. “Everybody isn’t blessed to be able to retire twice.”

  Blair knew what Hollis was referring to. Blair had retired after twenty-five years as head of the FBI’s investigative services. He and his wife had relocated from Denver to Orlando for warmer weather and a chance to live out the rest of their lives enjoying the good life. Less than a month after the move, his wife of twenty years was killed in a senseless car-jacking. When the local police could not come up with any leads, Blair had joined the force with one goal—to bring the men responsible for his wife’s death to justice. In less than two weeks, he had done that very thing and had been asked by the police chief to remain to head up the Detective Division. That was ten years ago, and now he was ready to retire again. In a way, he couldn’t wait to leave, especially when they dumped eager beavers like Hollis in his lap to train. The man was a hothead who relied only on what he saw as the facts and didn’t waste time adding gut instinct into the mix.

  Instead of responding to Hollis’s comment, he asked, “Okay, what you got?”

  Hollis grinned. “This one is a piece of cake. I just finished interviewing Andrews’s girlfriend, and—”

  “Girlfriend?” At Hollis’s nod, Blair then asked, “How did you find out about her?”

  “Andrews’s cell phone. That was the last number he called, so I checked things out. And according to Ashira Wilson, Andrews had planned on asking his wife for a divorce to marry her.”

  “Do we have proof of that?” Blair asked.

  “No, but I do have proof that Andrews recently took both his wife and girlfriend on a two-week trip to Hawaii. They just returned a few days ago. Shit, how he could afford to do that, I don’t know. I can’t take my old lady on a trip out of Florida, and he was able to foot the bill for two women. Anyway, Wilson has airline and hotel receipts to prove it.”

  A smile curved Hollis’s lips when he added, “Seems like he was bedding both of them on the trip. The girlfriend in the morning and the wife in the afternoon. Wilson figured the wife must have found out about it, as well as the fact he was about to ask her for a divorce, and shot him. You know how it is, Blair. Hell knows no fury like a woman
scorned.”

  Blair shook his head, thinking that if the man had really done what Hollis claimed, then he was really a lowdown dirty prick to disrespect his wife in such a manner. “Before we fly off the handle and accuse the wife of anything, let’s talk to her and see what she has to say.”

  A few moments later, they entered the waiting room. Blair immediately focused on the occupants. His trained eye latched on to who he believed was Mrs. Ronald Andrews. Even in her seemingly distraught state, he thought she was a very beautiful woman. Dignified looking. Refined.

  Then there was a woman by her side, a younger version, whom he immediately figured was the daughter. Another older woman was standing close by who bore a resemblance to the older Mrs. Andrews, so Blair knew he could count on her being a sister or a close family member. He also noted a man in his late thirties or early forties standing by the window whose sharp gaze had the younger Ms. Andrews within its scope. Blair quickly assumed he was the younger woman’s husband or lover.

  By the look of things, now was not a good time to ask questions; the family was clearly upset. He would even go so far as to say they were still in shock. However, a man was in surgery fighting for his life, and it was Blair’s and Hollis’s job to piece together what had happened and to make sure the person responsible was brought to justice.

  Before Blair could open his mouth to announce their presence, Hollis, in his unsympathetic way, walked into the center of the room and said, “I am Detective Hollis, and this is my partner, Detective Blair. Whoever is Barbara Andrews, we need to ask you some questions.”

  Everyone glanced over at Hollis, and Blair could just imagine what was going through their minds. They were probably thinking the same thing he had a few times over the past month: that Hollis needed to improve on his people skills and grab a bunch of manners while he was at it. Blair decided to hang back and be an observer, when everyone gave him only a cursory once-over before returning their gaze to Hollis, evidently erroneously assuming Hollis was the man in charge. Blair wasn’t surprised when the woman he figured to be Ronald Andrews’s wife slowly stood and asked, “I’m Barbara Andrews—what questions do you have to ask me?”