Any Man I Want (6 page)

I smiled back and met his eyes: They kind of glowed. Was this the first time I'd ever looked Carter in his eyes and paid attention? I remembered he was waiting on an answer. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“What?” He squeezed my hand.

“Beg pardon?” I was so unfocused and distracted. It was like Carter was a shiny new puzzle I had to possess and solve immediately. I couldn't recall feeling quite like this before. Did he feel this way? Where had it come from? Where would it lead?
Oh shut up, Katrina!
I scolded myself and tried to stay present in the moment.

“What do you want to do, princess?” he asked softly.

Besides jump your bones until we both scream for mercy?
I blinked the thought away, but not before he saw it in my eyes. The air around us went up about ten degrees. I blinked again. “Let's go swimming.”

He blinked twice and then stood up, pulling me with him. “That's one way to get wet.”

My jaw dropped. “Did you just say—”

A bad-boy grin spread across his face. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “I'll see you by the pool in ten. I don't suppose you still have that pink bikini, do you?”

Giggling, I shook my head. “That's long gone. Something similar, though.”

“Surprise me,” he challenged, dropping my hand and backing away.

“I'll see if I can find a l'il sumthin'-sumthin' to impress.”

“You impress just by breathing, diva. Just by breathing.” With a lingering look, he turned and headed to his room.

Whew!
I braced myself on the table and took a few deep breaths. That was a whole lotta grown and sexy man right there. Contrary to what I had thought, he wasn't just a cute guy who used to play football and dabbled in real estate. He was a serious businessman; he had plans and dreams and aspirations that I wanted to hear all about. He wasn't the lightweight superficial men I was used to dealing with. He was grounded and not to be played with. He knew how to say the right things and send the right looks and I, the woman who never had to work for a man in her life? Had to step my game up.

Carter—Tuesday, May 24—noon

 

 

S
wimming lap after lap in the refreshing blue water of the pool accomplished a few things: I got in some exercise for the day; it helped me burn off some of the tension and cooled me down after that exchange with Katrina. I wanted to take things slow between us, but she seemed determined to go to full boil right away. Katrina was a beautiful woman with an engaging spirit and I had been “in like” with her for a long time. There was only so much a man could resist. A rustling sound near the shallow end caught my attention and I stopped to stand up in the middle of the pool and take a look. And then I did a double take and made sure my tongue was not hanging out. Katrina was prowling (yeah, I do mean prowling) toward the pool wearing a barely-there white bikini held together by tiny silver chains and a sheer flowing thing over it with four-inch high sandals with crystals sparking on them. Very little was left to my very vivid imagination. It should've been illegal for anyone to look that good ever in the history of womankind.

“Woman, you are going to be the death of me,” I muttered and started toward the steps.

She sent me a sultry smile and slid the cover up off her shoulders before tossing it to the side. The sun shone on her bronzed skin, highlighting every gorgeous feature and curve. She rested her hands on hips and held the pose. This was not my Kit-Kat. This was the model that had adorned many a magazine page and for good reason. “We wouldn't want that. I prefer you alive and breathing.”

“Funny, I prefer me that way as well.”

“How's the water feel?” She squatted down and ran her fingers through the water slowly.

I wanted some sort of award for my restraint in the face of overwhelming temptation. “Come on in and find out for yourself.”

She stood, kicked off her heels, and twisted her hair up. “I do believe I will, Mr. Sexy.” With innate grace, she strode to the deep end of the pool and executed a perfect dive into the water. A few underwater breaststrokes later and she emerged next to me with a huge grin on her face. “I love the water, it feels awesome.” She leaned back and floated in circles around me.

I grinned back at her. “You're a water baby. I did not know that.”

“I adore water. You don't know
everything
about me, Carter Parks.”

“No; no, I don't. But I'm aiming to find out. I'll tell you one other thing. . . .” I scanned her form.

“What's that?”

“I'm learning a helluva lot more with that bikini you are halfway wearing. Did you know it's see-through when it gets wet?”

Her grin turned salacious. “Is that right?”

I shook my head, reached out, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her upright and up against me. “So you waltzed your fine ass out here in four see-through pieces of material and swam right up to me, huh?”

“Yeah, I did.” She wrapped her arms and legs around me. “What're you gonna do about it?”

“Woman, you are really asking for it,” I warned.

“Why, yes I am. Are you going to give it to me?”

“Ha!” I barked out a laugh and turned with her in my arms. I pressed her against the side of the pool and leaned in. I nuzzled her neck and bit lightly on her earlobe before whispering in her ear. “You're not going to move me anywhere I don't want to go, princess. Hot as you are, smart as you are, you don't have to give me the hard sell, babe. I'm already on the hook.”

“Then take a bite already!” She squirmed up against me.

“When we're ready,” I said through gritted teeth while holding her hips still.

She rolled her pelvis once more. “I think we're both ready.”

“And that's your problem, princess.” She was too used to getting her own way. Probably every guy she dated got wrapped up in her looks and her body and didn't look any deeper. I wasn't that guy. I wasn't going to be the guy who hit, quit, claimed the trophy, and moved on.

“What's my problem?” She quirked a brow.

“You're thinking below the waist instead of above the neck. What's wrong taking our time? There's a lot at risk here. We've been friends for years. Your brother is my best friend. I spend half my holidays with your parents. My grandfather fishes with your dad. If we implode and things get ugly, the fallout will be uncomfortable for so many people we care about. Is it really that big of an issue if we take it slow and get a little more comfortable with each other?”

Her eyes were wide. “Good God, you are serious! This is really happening? After years of dancing around each other, I'm offering myself up on a platter and you want to get to know me better? Really? You sound like a girl.” She sulked.

I slid my hands from the indentation of her waist down to her rear and pressed against her once more. “Do I feel like a girl?”

She exhaled shakily. “You most definitely do not feel like a girl.”

“All right, then. You already know when we do this it's going to be thermonuclear. We don't have to rush it. We can take our time. Sex is easy; it's the rest that gets twisted.”

She unwound herself from around me with a dramatic sigh. “Let's race. Two laps lengthwise. I win, we do the easy stuff. You win, we do it your way.”

“You're thinking I forgot you were on the swim team in high school?”

“You were a professional athlete; doesn't that give you an edge?”

“Katrina, everything's not a competition. We do this my way or we don't do it. We can race, but we do it for fun.”

She squinted at me. “I don't recall ever working this hard to get laid before.”

“Maybe 'cuz I want to be more than a lay to you.”

“You're a different kind of guy.”

“I keep telling you that.”

“I'm starting to believe you. So what do we race for?”

“Scrabble or Monopoly tonight,” I said. We had a history of wickedly competitive marathon board game sessions in the past.

“You suck at Scrabble,” she teased.

“You suck at Monopoly,” I parried.

“Let's get it on,” she challenged.

“Prepare to get your ass kicked, Cajun Kat.”

“Bring in on, Big Sexy.”

Katrina—Friday, May 27—6:23 pm

 

 

Y
ou know how people say that someone is driving them crazy and you nod sympathetically even though you know—absolutely know—that they are not being steered toward insanity by another person? Yeah, this was different. I firmly believed that messing with Carter Parks would have me seeking therapy before long. We had spent the rest of the week in Punta Cana getting to know each other. Or rather, he got to know me and I struggled to keep up.

I could not figure him out. He engaged in deep conversation, he snuggled while watching TV, he took my hand for long walks down the beach. Who was this guy? I had it on good authority that Big Sexy was a player... no pun intended. Not just a ballplayer but a relationship player. He was known as a guy who landed, but didn't stick; someone who made no promises, enjoyed himself, made sure a woman enjoyed herself, and was onto the next. In all the time I'd known him, he never had the same woman on his arm twice and never for any lengthy period of time. So I didn't think I was that off-base to think that Carter and I could scratch an itch for each other and go back to being friends. Carter Parks, professional itch-scratcher. That's what I thought I signed up for.

I saw no evidence of that man this past week. This was a man who asked me questions so probing that I had to ask, stop, and think about what I believed and dreamed before answering. This was a man who was not afraid of challenging me, didn't mind pampering me, but did not allow me to get away with anything less than a genuine response or reaction.

I was intrigued and aroused every moment I was in his company. He saw too much. It was the most uncomfortable feeling ever. When we were ironing-out accommodations for this weekend in Vegas I almost opted to stay in a room by myself on the other wing of the hotel. Just so I could get some space and perspective. This was the first time in recent memory I was shying away from a relationship because I felt out of my depth. Usually I fled because I was bored or felt smothered or used. But this was an entirely new situation. Only the knowing, smug glint in his eyes as he waited for me to agree to share a suite with him or sleep on the other side of Bellagio kept me from fleeing. He might have had me second-guessing myself, but I didn't have to advertise it.

We'd landed in Las Vegas a few hours ago and I was never so glad for the company of my family and friends. My mother had brought me a suitcase full of fresh clothes and I gratefully had her meet me in the suite. I needed the buffer. Alanna Montgomery, lovingly referred to as Madere, was a tiny, long-haired, cocoa-skinned beauty who brought warmth into every room she entered. When she arrived, I stood back and watched while Carter picked her up and whirled her around. She flung her head back and laughed joyously.

“How's the only woman to ever steal my heart doing?” he asked and smacked a noisy kiss on both her cheeks, still holding her aloft. I held back the urge to clear my throat and roll my eyes.

My sixty-plus-year-old mother giggled like a schoolgirl and took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him back. “If I was twenty years younger,
bel homme
, you wouldn't have to ask!”

Carter kissed her again and hugged her tighter before setting her back on her feet. “If Pops didn't own so many guns, I'd have to fight him for ya.”

“You may have to dodge a few bullets yet.” She slid a glance from him to me and back again.

He held his hands up. “I've been a perfect gentleman with his baby girl.”

“This is true. He has kissed you more in the last thirty seconds than he has kissed me all week.” Yes, I was a little testy about it.

Alanna looked slowly between us again and her smile widened. “
C'est vrai
? How noble of you, Carter. And how very disappointing for you,
ma fille
.” She turned toward me with arms outstretched.

“Hi, Mommy.” I was almost a full ten inches taller than my mother, but I still loved being wrapped in her arms. Somehow, getting the hug from Madere brought back all the stress and drama of the week and tears sprang to my ears.

She pulled back, looked into my face, and patted my hands. “None of that now. You've had a long week. Not your best. Name in the papers, face on the television, and for all the wrong reasons. But you're a Montgomery and we weather storms, yes? Come out stronger on the other side. Consider this a wake-up call.”

“A wake-up call?” What did she mean?

“Not every pretty man with a fat bank account and a bucket of degrees is worth your time,
bébé
.”

I slammed my hands on my hips and scowled down at her. “I break up with a guy and he decides to make up lies about me and it's my fault?”

“Shouldn't have been with him in the first place. You give an
imbécile
a fancy gun with shiny bullets and you're surprised when you get shot?” she asked matter-of-factly and gave a classic Madere Gallic shrug. Carter choked back a laugh and disappeared into his room on the far side of the suite. The door closed behind him with a decisive
click
.

“Am I the gun or the bullets, Mom?”

“Don't get smart with me, Katrina. Own up to your lack of judgment and let's talk about what's going on with you and Carter.” She turned toward the other bedroom in the suite. “Separate rooms, eh? That boy's no fool.”

I sighed, picked up the suitcase, and followed her into my room. I kicked the door shut behind me and collapsed onto the bed. Madere sat down beside me and stroked my hair. “I'm tired, Madere.”

“Chile, you been sunnin' and surfin' for a week, whatchu tired from?”

“Mentally tired,” I clarified.

“Why?”

“Too many thoughts crowding my brain.” I sighed wearily.

“Let's take it from the top,
‘tite chou
.”

“Are you and Pops ashamed of me?” I asked the thing that weighed most heavily. “For the sex thing?”

She gave me a tender, but rebuking, look. “Trina, you know better. We know you. We know what you would and wouldn't do. You're a beautiful woman and people don't always deal well with that. You've never caused us a moment's shame in your life. You are almost thirty years old; we know you've had sex before. From now on, maybe you pick a man a l'il more worthy of your favors?”

Well, she certainly had a good point there. “Yes, ma'am.”

Her expression turned fierce. “Dat Delancey boy better hope I don't see him in the streets.”

I did not laugh because she meant it. Alanna Montgomery was tiny, but formidable. I'd spent the majority of my life taking care to stay on her good side.

“What else is on your mind?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe you spend a minute or two thinking 'bout that beautiful man across the way who can't keep his eyes off of you?”

“Hmpfh. He looks; he doesn't touch.”

“What does he do?”

“He watches and he talks and he beats me in Monopoly.”

“That makes him a bad guy?”

“That makes him a bit of a mystery to me. I'm used to men who are interested in the packaging.”

“Isn't it nice that a man sees more?”

“I guess. It's just unnerving. Different.” Frustrating, infuriating, and aggravating, but I didn't want to overshare.

“Based on your track record,
ma fille
, I can't help but think that's a good thing. I like him for you, I always have.”

I sat up in shock. “What do you mean,
always
?”

“There's always been
quelque chose
special between you two. A mother knows,” she said cryptically.

“I think he thinks we could be special. Like happily-ever-after and all of that.”

“You don't think so?”

I took a deep breath and then admitted, “I'm not sure I believe in all that stuff.”

Her brows rose. “All that stuff? Really? You sit here with a woman still in love with her man after forty years. You say this on the eve of the wedding of your oldest
frère
—did any of us believe he'd ever settle down? You see Roman and Jewel. And still you wonder? What made you this way?”

“I believe in it for everybody else. I'm not sure it's for me,” I said in a small voice.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I've never felt that for anybody. I've never been in love, never got my heart broken. Maybe I just don't feel things that deeply? Maybe I'm just not that deep a person.”

Madere pushed up from the bed and glared down at me. “Are you not my child?”

“Yes, ma'am, I am,” I answered quietly.

“Isn't Avery Montgomery your father?”

“Yes, ma'am, he is.”

“Then you should know better. We cry often, we trust sparingly, we laugh long, and we love hard. You just need to meet someone you're willing to let down your guard for.”

“How will I know when someone is worth it?”

“You'll just know.”

I really hated it when people said that.
You'll know it when you see it
—what if I don't? What if I miss it? What if I let down my guard and the wrong person takes advantage? That would suck. I gave her a look full of skepticism.

“Look at it like 'dis,
chère
. Your ex is calling you everything but a child of God, your naked hind parts are over the YouTube. In my opinion, your life can only go up from here.”

“Mom!” I exclaimed. We exchanged glances and then burst into laughter. We fell onto the bed, rolling with mirth.

The door swung open and Carter entered with Pops and Beau. The three men stood with arms folded. My father remained a great-looking man, over six feet tall, honey-brown skin with salt-and-pepper hair. Avery “Pops” Montgomery reviewed the scene in front of him with a twinkle in his eye. Beau stood an inch or two taller. Though Roman, Beau, and I favored each other a lot, looking at Beau was like looking at the bulkier male counterpart of myself. Carter stood in the middle of them with brows raised.

Pops smirked. “I guess I don't have to ask if you feelin' all right,
mon enfant
?”

I pulled myself together enough to hop up and fling myself into my father's arms. “Hiya, Pops. I'm good.”

He gestured to Carter with his thumb. “This one taking care of you or do I need to get the shotgun?”

“Get the shotgun, Pops!” Beau egged him on.

“Man . . .” Carter warned, looking uncomfortable for the first time all week. So uncomfortable that I left my father's arms and turned to Beau.

I kissed him on the cheek. “Behave, brother.” I stepped to Carter and threaded my arm through his. “Don't shoot him, Daddy, I'm getting kinda fond of him.”

“Is that right?” Beau, Carter, and Pops said in the same breath and same tone.

Madere grabbed Beau with one hand and Pops with the other. “
Allons,
gentlemen. Let the children have a moment. Katrina. Carter. We'll see you at the restaurant in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Carter and I intoned.

“We have guests. Even your Aunt Yo-Yo and her latest husband showed up. We've got a lot to do. I'm telling you, not twenty-two minutes, not twenty-five: twenty.”

“Not a scintilla of a second past twenty minutes,” I repeated, holding back the urge to roll my eyes.

“If I gotta come looking, I'm bringing my gun.” Pops slanted a look at Carter as Madere pulled him toward the door.

“You tell him, Daddy,” Beau said. The minute his back was turned, I took off my shoe and beaned my eldest brother in the back of head. His hand sprang to his neck. “Hey! Ma, Kit's throwing things at me.”

“Throw something back,” she called out over her shoulder as she swept out of the room.

Beau picked the shoe up and tossed it back. Carter and I ducked. It flew past us to land harmlessly beside the coffee table. I walked over and picked it back up, holding it in my hand.

“Didn't you used to play baseball? What kind of throw was that?” Carter teased.

“I'm getting married tomorrow, my aim is off.”

“Already blaming the little woman.” Carter sucked his teeth.

“Did you just say
the little woman
up in here?” I asked incredulously.

“Woo, bruh!” Beau laughed. “I'm going to leave you to handle that. See you at Emeril's over by the MGM in eighteen minutes. You two be good,” he joked and ran out the door before the shoe could pop him again.

I tapped the shoe against my hand and caught Carter grinning at me. “What?”

Carter noted, “That's a wicked throwing arm you got there, Kitty.”

“Growing up with those two, I had to develop some special skills.”

“I'll just bet you did,” he murmured and glanced at his watch. “We have seventeen minutes, you want to change?”

I exhaled. “This dinner should be a hot mess. Four uncles, three aunts, who knows how many cousins. At least I like the bridesmaids.”

“Who are the bridesmaids again?”

“Well, we're down a few. Belle's two sisters couldn't make it. One takes her medical boards today and the other is eight months' pregnant. So now there's me, Jewel, Yazlyn, and an old friend of Jewel's that we've all gotten close to, Veronica.”

Carter nodded, “Yeah, I know Roni. Greg the banker's wife.”

“Gregory Samson is your banker too?” Roman met Gregory when he started dating Jewel. At the time, Greg had been dating Renee, another friend of Jewel's. I knew Renee from when she was the marketing rep for Royal Mahogany Cosmetics and I was their spokesmodel. Long story short, Beau and Renee hooked up. Greg found out and turned to Veronica to get over his trauma. Gregory and Veronica worked out in the long run; Beau and Renee did not. Renee and Beau had an ill-timed one-night stand just shortly after he started working with Belle, but that ended before it even started.