Playing for Keeps (4 page)

"Sounds wonderful. "

"I think so. It was a fight to get the program started but we've been going strong five years now."

Nila led Stacy, and Houdini into a small office. They sat and shared some coffee. "Would your husband object to you having a dog?"

"Oh, I'm not married. Thank God that's over," Stacy added with a bitter laugh. "It's not that. I just don't have room in my life for a dog."

"Boyfriend?"

"What?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Stacy frowned. "No, but I don't see--"

"He needs you and you need him. I can always tell a perfect match when I see one."

"I'm sorry but--"

"Just give him a week, if he doesn't grow on you by then give him back to me."

It seemed reasonable and Stacy did like him. And she thought it would be nice to fill the house with a companion. Something she could trust. "Okay." She bent down and stroked the puppy who slept soundly, exhausted from his recent escapade.

"So how come?"

Stacy frowned. "How come what?"

"You're not seeing anyone. I know it's a personal question, but I'm just curious."

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

"Happily?"

Nila grinned. "Oh is that it? You married a piece of trash and hate mankind?"

"I don't hate men. I don't have the energy. I just haven't met the right one yet."

"Do you want to?"

Stacy lifted her brows in feigned surprise. "Are you offering?"

"If I swung the other way I'd be hitting on you. You're attractive, you're smart, you're kind." She finished her coffee and set the empty cup on the table.

Stacy sniffed. No one had called her attractive in years. "Not many men think so. My ex didn't and I did a horrible thing to some guy's car. I've been thinking I'll take myself off the market for a while."

"Thinking and doing are two different things." Nila pulled out a little black book and started scribbling down some notes. "You're interested in someone now, aren't you?"

Stacy watched her with interest. "What are you doing?"

"Just got a great idea I want to write down before I lose it." She looked up at Stacy and winked. "As a writer, I'm sure you know how that feels."

"How did you know I'm a writer?"

"Prisons have ears. I heard about the new program that you're part of. I think it's great."

"It wasn't my idea."

"It's still great. So what kind of man do you want?"

"We're back to that?"

"Just pretend. Come on, you're a writer, use your imagination."

Stacy hesitated, lifting her coffee cup then setting it back down. She sighed. "He doesn't exist."

Nila's grin grew. "Say it anyway."

"A man who's successful in his own right and won't be jealous of my success, but proud. And confident. Considerate and can laugh at himself."

"Ambitious but carefree?"

Stacy frowned. "I told you he doesn't exist."

Nila shrugged. "You'd be surprised." She put her black book away. "I hope things work out with you and Houdini."

"Thanks." Stacy looked down at Houdini and hoped so too.

***

Rockett looked around the elegant hotel room enjoying the scent of the fresh sheets and expensive cologne before she let her gaze settle on the man who sat on the bed. She'd been warned about him. He liked it rough and hard. Fortunately she was a professional and was prepared. He was better looking than she'd expected. The men who hired her usually didn't look this good or weren't this young. She knew he was a doctor, but that was all she needed or wanted to know. He probably had a wife, or a girlfriend, who didn't know his real desire, that was fine with her. Those women kept her in business. He wasn't a talker, which was a relief. The talkers bored her, although they were usually easier to please. The show
Heartbeat
was on the TV, and she reached to turn it off, even though it was one of her favorite shows.

"Leave it," he said.

She grinned at him. "And if I don't?"

He snatched the remote from her and set it aside.

She shrugged. Each man was different and she'd take his lead on the game he wanted to play. She knew he liked to dole out punishment and that was what she was there for. She soon discovered he didn't like toys, so he ignored the chains, the handcuffs and the whip, preferring to use his hands to slap and scratch her. He was harder, faster, rougher and more vicious than she'd expected, but she was a professional and didn't let her surprise show.

When he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed, she welcomed the sexual high of suffocation, but before she slipped into dark unconsciousness she saw the rage in his eyes. Quickly her arousal was enveloped by fear and for a brief moment, she wondered if she'd ever see daylight again.

***

Stacy sat alone in a restaurant, eating her way through a chocolate mousse wanting to forget her miserable day at the detention center. She'd dropped Houdini at home later that day, to be looked after by Kelly, her housekeeper, before treating herself. As she stared at her chocolate mousse the man she'd met with laughing, dark brown eyes came into her mind. She wished she knew the words to describe them. Although he had a rough exterior, with his beard and shabby clothes, he was sexy. If it had been another time she would have flirted with him, although she was terribly out of practice and doubted he'd be interested. Maybe it was good she'd met him only briefly. She might have made an idiot of herself otherwise. He was the kind of man who could walk into a room, choose a corner, and with just one look, catch the eye of a woman and make her come to him.

He had that cool, sophisticated energy of a seducer who with a look could cast a spell. A man like that would be dangerous to her. Besides, she didn't want to go from one man who'd blinded her to another who made her heart race, no matter how attracted she was to him. Keeping a man like that interested would take a lot of work anyway. He likely had plenty of women eager to keep his attention. Marshall had shown her how a wedding band didn't matter. But even though she'd never be with a man like the stranger, Stacy couldn't help imagining being with someone like him. What would it be like? What would it be like to have his steady gaze locked with hers. To be his?

The vibration of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She answered. "Hello?"

"Sis, you've got to help me," her younger brother Franklin said.

The tone of his voice sent shivers through her. She gripped the phone and her heart raced, but she kept her voice calm. "Why?"

"It's all gone."

"What's all gone?"

"The money. The investments. It's gone," he said, then told her about a project he'd invested their parent's money in. "What am I going to do? They'll lose everything."

"I told you to be careful and conservative when it came to investing their money."

"I know, I just thought I had a sure thing."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Help me. Help us. I know you have money."

"Not as much as I used to, especially after the divorce."

"Stacy please."

"I'll call you back tomorrow."

"You can't let them know about this."

"Don't worry, I'll think of something." She hung up. How could this have happened? He was supposed to look after their parents and now they could lose all the things they'd struggled to build since coming to this country from Jamaica.

Stacy quickly rushed into the bathroom and lost her meal. It didn't take long since she hadn't eaten much. Unfortunately, she still couldn't write. What could she do? She'd have to sell things. She'd already planned to sell the grand house and the cars, she'd keep her condo, but the money wouldn't last long. Her life was swirling down the drain. She left the bathroom stall and met the startled brown gaze she'd been dreaming about.

"What are you doing in the ladies' room?" Stacy demanded.

Chance folded his arms and smiled amused. "Actually, it's the men's room."

Stacy turned and saw the urinals and two men who were putting them to good use.

Her face burned. She wished she could crumble into a ball and disappear. "I'm so sorry," she said in a rush then raced out. She quickly settled her bill then stumbled out of the restaurant onto the busy sidewalk, surprised her legs could still hold her up. The day was going from bad to worse. All she needed now was lightning to strike her down. She thought of the stock market crash and men jumping from buildings. She knew how they felt.

She walked aimlessly against the wave of people pushing past her. She stepped into the road. A strong hand violently yanked her back and she felt the breeze from a car speeding past her. It chilled the sweat on her skin.

"Do you have a death wish or something?"

Stacy spun around and looked up into the familiar brown eyes again. "Oh no, not you. Please, leave me alone." She tried to push him away, but his grip tightened.

"Come on, you need to sit down." He didn't give her a chance to argue. He led her to an outside table.

"You look pale," he said, handing her a glass of water. She didn't even remember it arriving. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No," Stacy said, feeling as if she were in a fog and all her movements were in slow motion.
I need a miracle.
She stood.

"Sit down."

"I'm all right."

He tugged her back down. "Is there a friend I can call?"

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"Do you want me to get you a cab?"

She shook her head. "Please stop being nice to me. Call me names, tell me I'm pathetic or crazy."

"Why?"

"Then you'll be in sync with how my day has been."

"Maybe it's time for things to change," he said. His amused brown gaze seemed to plead for friendship, which Stacy couldn't understand. Then he did something that was her complete undoing. His mouth curved into a soft smile. She could have taken anything but that genuine, warm smile. A smile that said everything would be okay, that you're not crazy. She couldn't understand why he made her feel that, no matter how bad life got, she would be fine, that she could trust him. Why did he seem so familiar? He still looked rugged and sexy and she didn't usually go for men with beards. Why couldn't she have met a man like him before her life was ruined? Before she met Marshall? Before she'd trusted her brother to look after their parents? Despair tore at her heart and tears slowly made their way down her face.

His smile disappeared and his gaze sharpened. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," she said in a choked voice craving his kindness but also wishing he wasn't so kind.

"Why not?"

"I don't even know you."

"Yes, you do," he said with a vehemence that surprised her.

She shook her head ashamed. "I know I should, but I don't. Tell me your name maybe I'll know you then."

"Chance Jamison," he said slowly, his gaze clinging to her as if studying her reaction.

Stacy bit her lip and glanced up at the sky. His name rang a bell, but she still couldn't place him. She shrugged. "It's a nice name."

A brief look of disappointment crossed his face then disappeared. "Forget it, Stacy." He leaned back in his chair. "So, now can you tell me what's wrong?"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "No."

"Okay, then can you help me?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Help you?"

He nodded.

"Do what?"

"I want to go to Madame Tussauds but I don't want to go by myself. All my friends are busy and it'd be nice to act like a tourist. I think it will help take your mind off your troubles and you'd be doing me a favor."

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Stacy said then her phone rang and she saw it was her mother. "Excuse me," she said then answered. "Hello?" she said expecting to hear her mother in tears.

"If your brother calls you, don't give him any money."

"What?"

"He's in a lot of trouble, but this time he's got to get out of it himself."

Stacy paused. "Wait...what?"

"I've tried to keep this from you since you were going through your divorce, but your brother has been stealing from us. After we stopped allowing him access to our estate he buried himself in debt elsewhere and he's scrambling to find a way out."

"So he hasn't been investing your money?"

Her mother laughed. "Not for a long time now."

Stacy gripped the phone.
That slimy little eel
. "So your investments are fine?"

"Perfectly fine. Just be warned, he'll want money from you. I love my son but I'm afraid we spoiled him a little too much."

"Thanks," Stacy said not wanting her mother to feel worse than she did. "I'll remember. Bye." She disconnected. So her brother was in trouble and wanted to be rescued--again. This time he'd be in for a surprise. She looked up at Chance and reconsidered his offer. Her first instinct was to say no. She hadn't gone out with a man in over three years, but her brother's lie made her angry and she didn't want to be angry anymore. She wanted to have fun. Her brother had ruined her meal but she wouldn't let him ruin her day. "Okay," she said feeling suddenly reckless. "Let's go."

And she had more fun than she'd ever imagined. Stacy explored the museum with Chance, experiencing it in a way she never had the last time she'd visited. He made her laugh and relax, amazing her with his extensive knowledge on various topics. Soon her troubles became a memory. Afterwards he took her to a corner restaurant where the wait staff greeted him as if he were family. They sat at a table where he treated her to a New York-style pizza and talked about the Madame Tussauds in England, where they'd both travelled. It surprised her that they had a lot in common: They had similar tastes in music, past times and love of the arts. She told him about her writing background and, to test him, told him about her bestselling series. To her pleasure he was impressed. "You didn't say it," she said with a laugh.

"Say what?"

"That you want to write, or that you have written. Every time I mention that I write someone tells me that they want to write too."