Any Man I Want (17 page)

I uncovered the dishes. Spicy fried chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, greens, and biscuits. I started loading his plate.

“Oh my God,” Carter moaned. “You cooked. You cooked carbs for me.”

“Yeah, I did, baby.” I grinned as he snatched my hand and kissed the back of it.

“Goddess. You're a goddess.”

I shook my head, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat down next to him. “Nah, I'm just a woman who realizes she has a good man who could stand to be appreciated.”

“Yeah? You've got me, huh?”

“Hope like hell I do.” I handed him butter, Tabasco, and maple syrup.

He looked down at the items and back at me. “All right, Katrina, who'd you grill?”

I blinked innocently. “Beg pardon?”

“My favorite food with all the right condiments, my favorite drink prepared perfectly, my favorite album?”

“Your favorite girl?”

“My favorite girl,” he agreed. “Apparently, you've got some sleuthing skills.”

“I've got all kinds of skills. Eat up; I have praline cheesecake for dessert.”

He bit into the chicken and made a sound I'd only heard him make while naked. “Girl, when you apologize you do it up right.”

“This?” I gestured toward the table and living room. “This isn't an apology. This is me playing catch-up, doing what I should have been doing from the beginning. Upstairs later, on the new bed? That will be an apology.”

“New bed, huh?” He scooped up some mashed potatoes.

“Indeed. Eat up, Sexy. We're just getting started.”

He set his fork down. “Kit-Kat?”

“C?”

“If I forget to say it, this is excellent and thank you.” He started slathering butter on his biscuit. I envied that kind of guiltless eating.

I kissed him on the neck. “Thank you for being you, babe.”

“Who else would I be?” He looked confused.

“Exactly. That's why I love you. Now stop blocking the butter.”

He passed the butter and then went still with the biscuit halfway to his mouth. “What did you just say?”

“I said you were kinda bogarting the spreadable butter a little bit. You were.”

“Before that.”

“The
I love you
part?” I bit into a drumstick and mentally patted myself on the back. This was good.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. That part.”

“I do,” I confirmed and forked up some greens.

Taking a sip of his drink, he nodded as the smile spread across his face again. “Good.” He picked up his fork and we ate in companionable silence while the song switched over to Maxwell's “Sumthin' Sumthin'.” “I love you too and not just because you put your foot all up in this food.”

“Good, then.” I stayed calm even though I wanted to get up and dance around the pool. The neighbors wouldn't appreciate me screaming
Carter loves me, ME
over and over again.

“If I weren't determined to clean my plate and have seconds, I'd do you right here in the middle of these mashed potatoes. To commemorate the moment and all.”

“You sentimental sweet-talker, you. Hold the thought. I'm not going anywhere any time soon.”

“You're not, huh?”

“No Carter Evan Parks, I am not. You're stuck with me.”

“That's a hell of a day you must have had.”

“You don't know the half. Got scared, got some sense knocked into me, got my mind right.”

“That's a good day.”

I raised my glass. “Getting better every minute.” We clinked glasses and I gave him a smile full of promise. He would go to sleep tonight much happier than he woke up.

Carter—Saturday, July 10—1:11 a.m.

 

“W
hy don't they make movies like this anymore?” Katrina groused as we watched the last scenes of
Love & Basketball
fade to credits. When I found out that Katrina had missed a lot of the neo-soul neoclassic films of the late 1990s, early 2000s, I decided we'd have a little marathon. We watched
Boomerang
,
Hav Plenty
, and then
Love & Basketball
.

“They do,” I argued, though I tended to agree with her.

“We get maybe five or six African-American romantic comedies or relationship stories a year and two of those either suck or have some guy dressing up as a woman in the lead role.”

“Somebody should do something about it,” I told her and moved the empty popcorn bowl to the ottoman.

“We're somebody,” she said, shifting the empty drinkware to the tray on the side table.

I stood up and started putting the dozens of pillows she seemed to think we needed back on the sofa. “We are two somebodies, neither of which knows a damn thing about making movies.”

“We know people, we should look into it. Maybe do something small. Think about putting together an independent production house and start looking around for interesting stories to tell.” She sat up and stretched.

“A joint venture between you and me in an industry that is notoriously fickle. I see you, diva. Because neither of us has enough to do.” I looked down at her as she tossed aside the lightweight blanket-thing she had been curled up under. I picked it up and folded it into a rectangle and tossed it over the back of the couch. It wasn't that Katrina was messy. It was that she felt there was a time and a place to pick up and clean things. That was usually Saturday mornings. The rest of the week, she tended to let things go. I had a housekeeper who came in on Tuesdays and Thursdays to do a few hours of light cleaning and straightening. Once every six weeks Katrina's housekeeper came with a team and did things that we weren't going to do, like windows, drapes, and something to do with bleach and grout in the bathrooms that I didn't care to know too much about. My point was, between our jobs, families, friends, household stuff, and time together, I didn't see how we were going to launch some sort of independent film company. But one of Katrina's charms was that she was also a dreamer who frequently found ways to make dreams come true.

Katrina smiled up at me. “I know you're thinking this is another of my pie-in-the-sky dreams.”

“A l'il bit.”

“It doesn't have to be today, just something to start thinking about.”

“Montgomery-Parks Productions. I'll keep it in mind.”

“That's sweet of you to put me first, but I'm thinking Big Kat Productions. And the logo would be this lean lion with a grin on its face and its paw on a football.”

I smiled down at her. “Did you just come up with that on the spot?”

Her lids drooped and a sultry smile crossed her face. She reached down and whipped her T-shirt off and tossed it away. Then she took two fingers and pulled the drawstring on my pants. They fell to the ground, leaving me bare-assed naked in the middle of my living room. She stretched across the length of the sofa and leaned back with her hands above her head. “I'm inventive.”

“So I see.”

She spread her legs so one foot rested on the floor. “And rather wet. Can you help me out with that?”

I pulled down the next-to-nothing shorts she had on and laid down on top of her. I slid a hand behind the nape of her neck and brought her mouth to mine. Slowly, I parted her lips and relished her unique flavor. Her mouth was warm, sweet, and uniquely Katrina. Her tongue flicked against mine eagerly and I delved deeper. Her arms came up and wrapped tightly around my neck as we dueled with more and more urgency.

Her hips instinctively matched the rhythm of our kisses, circling hungrily against me. Tempting as it was to give her what we both wanted right now, I was determined to savor the experience. The passion between Katrina and me ran so hot that often we just dove in, drove each other to distraction, and lay gasping in the aftermath. Don't get me wrong. It was hot and amazing, but this time, I wanted to take our time.

I pulled away from her mouth and nipped down her neck, pausing to run my tongue along a particularly sensitive spot. She shivered. I peppered kisses across her shoulders and chest, running my hands up and down her upper arms.

“Carter,” she implored, shifting restlessly underneath me.

“I know baby; wait for it.”

Her lashes rose and she pinned me with her gaze. Her eyes were more whiskey than gold with heated intensity. “I don't wanna wait.”

“But you will.”

“You make me crazy.”

“I make you hot.”

“That too.”

I shifted her up and traced patterns around the perfect globes that were her breasts. Lazily, I circled and watched as the dusky nipples pebbled to hardness. I drifted my tongue from one puckered tip to the other and blew streams of air before taking them into my mouth and sucking. She arched her back and groaned in the back of her throat.

“More,” she breathed.

While my tongue lathed one tip, I brought my fingers up to tweak the other and then alternated. She was grinding up against my thigh and I felt her heated wetness spreading. I drew the nubbin deeper into my mouth and flicked faster. Her movements became frantic and I increased the pace and pressure. With a low cry, she climaxed under me in trembling pleasure.

I dropped my hand to her hips and kept the pressure of my thigh against her so she could ride the wave fully. Her breath hitched and she shuddered once more before sinking with a satisfied smile back to the sofa cushions.

“You good?” I asked, sliding down her body. Glancing, I took a moment to be awed by the erotic vision laid out beneath me. Katrina's hair was a tousled crown around her head, her eyes were heavy-lidded and heated, her lips swollen and parted. Her skin had a delicate sheen of sweat and her chest rose and fell quickly as she dragged in air. She was everything I wanted and ever dreamed of.

“It gets better every damn time,” she whispered.

“Um-hmm.” I lifted one of her legs and rested it over the back of the couch to spread her wide for my attentions. I slid my thumb through her folds before settling down to delight in her honeyed center. Parting her outer lips, I sampled the very heart of her before nibbling on the hardened nubbin peeking out. I coaxed and teased with my fingers, lips, and tongue with varying pressure deliberately designed to drive her wild. I enjoyed the rush of wetness spilling into my mouth, the sound of her quickened breathing, the scent of her increased arousal scenting the air.

She began to buck against my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders as she chanted my name over and over again. I slid two fingers inside of her and stretched them while suckling that sensitive button. Her inner walls quaked as she hit her peak again. She pulled at me frantically. “I need you. Inside me. Now. Now!”

I licked my lips, rose up and shifted so that I was nestled between her thighs and then paused. “Protection.”

She reached between the cushion and the arm of the sofa and pulled out a foil packet.

“Is that where we're keeping these now?” I asked playfully.

“I hid them all over the house. Like you said, I'm spoiled. I want what I want when I want it.”

“Well, let me give it to you then.” I sheathed myself quickly and tilted her hips upwards.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and I penetrated her core slowly. The swollen folds of her sex rippled around me and I gritted my teeth as she undulated against me. Her hips lifted and fell in a frantic rhythm and I stilled her movements. She was so freaking hot, it threatened my control.

“Carter?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Just let go.”

“I want it to last.”

“We have forever.”

My control broke and I plunged into her with hard strokes. She met me thrust for thrust as I allowed myself to mindlessly seek nirvana in the joining. I opened my eyes to find her staring back at me. Instinct took over from technique as the physical and emotional combined to take us to a height we'd never visited before. I felt the ecstasy building up deep within and watched the bliss of it mirrored in her eyes. We reached the summit together and clasped each other tightly as we plummeted over the edge.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when we finally roused ourselves to separate, clean up, and head to bed. Climbing in, we rolled towards each other and I slung my arm around her waist and nestled closer.

“I should warn you that it's getting harder for me to imagine being without you,” I murmured into her neck.

“Then I should warn you that I have no intention of letting you go,” she answered with a yawn.

“Good to know,” was all I could say before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Katrina—Saturday, July 17—8:43 p.m.

 

 

“M
iss Montgomery, can we talk to you for a minute?” a reporter called out.

“It's not my night,” I said with a gracious smile and a wave and kept moving up. This past week we had started leaking some of Kevin's past misdeeds to the media and all the hype had kicked back up again. Even at the height of my fame, I'd always been able to dress down and escape detection. And lately, I'd worked especially hard to stay low-profile in public.

But it was too much to expect that tonight. We were on the second level of the Saint Ann restaurant, which had open-event space as well as a Samurai museum. This evening was the book launch party of Carter's mentor, Stavros Carmichael. He owned twelve of the best-known casinos worldwide (among many other things) and was currently on the cover of
Fortune
magazine. The event was an invitation only who's who of movers and shakers. I counted two actors, three politicians, one doctor who had a daytime talk show, a Pulitzer Prize–winner, two celebrity chefs, and more than a few Wall Street bigwigs. In addition, Chris had come with some teammates. Low profile was not going to happen this evening. Flashbulbs were popping off at regular intervals. Carter tucked my hand into his arm as we mingled around the room.

Bless Carter's heart . . . all he'd said about the evening was that it was a little get-together for the guy who gave him his start in business. Thank goodness I'd erred on the side of caution and pulled on a little black dress and blingy shoes. Left up to his instructions, I would have shown up to this high-profile event in jeans and ballet flats. Carter had on a white sport coat over a navy T-shirt and matching tailored navy pants. Yum.

We finally circled back around to Stavros's side. Stavros Carmichael was a sixty-year-old tycoon who immigrated to the United States from Greece with his family when he was four years old. He was a self-made man who managed to stay pleasant even with all his success and well over a billion dollars in the bank. He was a good-looking man who was short in stature, but huge in personality and charisma. Stavros took my hand from Carter and took it in-between his. “You know, Kevin Delancey asked to come to this party this evening.”

The smile fell from my face at the mention of Kevin's name.

Stavros patted my hand. “I don't say this to hurt you, my dear. You are far too lovely a spirit to have one such as him in your sphere. I declined his request to attend.”

“Why, thank you.” I knew that tweaked Kevin's ego something fierce.

“And, if I may speak frankly?”

“Of course.”

“He's an asshole. Made a few dollars and doesn't handle himself well. It reflects poorly. I must ask why his ass hasn't been thoroughly kicked?” Stavros asked in the politest of tones.

Carter tipped his head in agreement. “I voted for the ass-kicking.”

“It's never too late, that could still get handled. If you so choose.”

I kissed Stavros on the cheek. “I appreciate the thought, gentlemen. Truthfully, I may or may not have entertained the fantasy of seeing Mr. Delancey dragged down the street by his sensitive parts. However, I think it's best to handle these things at a more cerebral level.”

Stavros nodded in deference. “Well, then.”

“Katrina, is this your new boyfriend?” A reporter rolled up and snapped a picture of me and Stavros. Stavros laughed in delight.

“I'm a lucky man, but not that lucky. Unless Miss Montgomery is interested in becoming Mrs. Carmichael number four?”

“Tempting. Let me consult with the first, second, and third Mrs. Carmichaels while I consider it,” I teased.

Stavros beamed and handed me off to Carter. “Here's the man you're looking for. Ah, to be young again. I believe in this area, Parks, the student has become the teacher.”

Carter flashed a smile, curved his arm around my waist, and pulled me closer. “Definitely feeling blessed.” He looked so damn proud to have me on his arm that I just melted against him. God, I loved this man. Okay, fine. My mother was right: When you find the One, you start to think that anything is possible. The honor and cherish, til-death-do-us-part and happily-ever-after—it could actually happen for me.

“Katrina, we heard you liked older men,” the reporter said snarkily. Carter's eyes narrowed and I spoke up before he could go all protective alpha male.

“I do—Carter's ancient.” Everyone laughed, breaking the tension, and the reporter wandered off.

Stavros spoke up. “I was telling Carter earlier that I'd be interested to watch and see what you do next. You seem the kind of woman to have her finger in a lot of pies. I keep telling this one that the key is to diversify your interests and income streams. You never want all your eggs in one basket and you want each and every egg to be golden.”

“Funny you should say that. CP and I were kicking around an idea of launching a production company for independent films.”

Stavros's brow rose. “That is an area I've had a passing interest in. We should set up a time to talk.”

Chris had come up behind us. “I'm in. I'll personally be in charge of auditioning all the female leads.”

Stavros clapped him on the back. “This one we keep our eye on.”

A young, nervous staffer in a white shirt and black pants hustled over to us. “Um . . . Mr. Parks?”

Both Chris and Carter turned. “Yes?”

“Oh.” She got flustered as if not sure what to do next. “Either one of you, I guess. There are some people at the entrance who say they are your parents.” Both Chris and Carter's head swiveled to where an older black couple stood, overdressed for the occasion and looking irritated that they were not being let in. The woman was tall, thin, and would have been beautiful if not for the angry, bitter expression on her face. The man was a lighter-skinned, older version of Carter and Chris and wore the same aggressive expression as the woman.

Carter looked grim, Chris looked dismayed, Stavros looked angry. I was confused. I realized that there was bad blood and worse history between Carter and his parents, but these reactions seemed severe.

“How did they find us tonight?” Chris asked.

Carter pointed at all the media in attendance.

“What do they want?” Chris said in a strained voice.

Carter shook his head ruefully. “It's July. They've run through this year's money already.”

I kept my mouth from dropping open. Carter gave them some sort of an annual allowance? Chris pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text.

Stavros lowered his voice. “Let's take this to the back office.” He motioned to two of the staff members. They went to the elevator bay and spoke to the couple. Carter steered me toward the room that Stavros pointed out. Chris hurried over to keep his parents from getting loud and making a scene, which they appeared to be on the verge of doing. I didn't know what to say, think, or do, so I followed in silence.

We entered the small office and turned toward the door. Stavros put his hand on Carter's shoulder and I threaded my fingers through his. He tightened his grip and hung on. Carter was not a man who clung, so I knew right then that this situation was worse than I'd thought.

The door swung open and the couple walked in with Chris following. Chris had a tight, pinched look on his face. The woman walked over to me with arms outstretched. “You must be Katrina. I've heard so much about you.”

I froze for a second. Usually I was socially adept, but I didn't even know this woman's name and I could feel the waves of pain radiating off of Carter and Chris. I extended my hand. “Glad to meet you, ma'am.”

She pulled up short and looked at the hand I'd extended. “So this is the kind of woman you like, Carter Evan? And why does he have to be here?” She gestured toward Stavros.

“He's a friend. He's been here for me. Katrina Montgomery, Clara and Caleb Parks,” Carter said blandly.

I extended my hand again. “Pleased to meet you.”

Clara curled her lip and turned away. Caleb at least stepped forward and accepted the handshake. “Pleasure, girlie. A pleasure.”

“So what brings you here?” Carter asked in a controlled voice.

“Can't a mother come—” Clara whined and was interrupted.

“Stop,” Chris said. “Let's not do this dance. Especially not here. Let's just cut to the chase. Is the money gone again?”

“Let me explain what happened, son,” Caleb said.

“I know what happened. You spent a year's worth of money in half a year's time,” Carter snapped.

“Unbelievable!” Chris said. “Carter bought the two of you a building in Baton Rouge and another in Shreveport. You can live in either one rent-free. The proceeds of the buildings' lease income go directly into your bank accounts. You also each have one hundred thousand dollars a year at your disposal. This year I kicked in an extra twenty-five thousand dollars apiece. It is completely unacceptable that you can't live off of that. Completely.”

“Don't you smart-mouth us. We brought you into this world,” Carla curled her lip and snarled.

“Thank you. I like it here. When do we stop paying for the gift of life?” Chris said shortly. He was the happy-go-lucky one of the two brothers, so his sharpness was telling.

“What's the damage?” Carter asked, wearily obviously, having heard it all before.

“Well, son, we ran into some problems with the Baton Rouge building,” Caleb explained.

“There is a property management company that handles that,” Carter answered calmly.

Clara spoke up. “We let them go.”

His voice went deadly. “I beg your pardon?”

Caleb shrugged unashamedly. “We had to fire them, they weren't working out. Most of the repairs we could do ourselves.”

Carter exhaled. “So where is the money that I was paying the property management company?”

Neither of them said anything. Carter pinched the bridge of his nose. Stavros whispered something in his ear and he shook his head forcefully. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do. I had no point of reference for parents like this. It would never occur to Alanna and Avery Montgomery to take an allowance from their children and then to run through it and ask for more. Thinking back, I thought of just how many Christmases and Thanksgivings that the three Parks men had spent with us. I'd never seen Caleb or Clara before. Never heard them call to check up on their boys, nothing. It seems like Caleb and Clara thought of their offspring more like a bank and less like family. That was inexcusable.

“What's the bottom line here?” Carter asked wearily.

“Just . . . you know, whatever you two can spare,” Clara asked.

“And if the answer is no?” Chris asked.

“How would it be
no
? You just signed a thirty-eight-million-dollar contract and Carter just sold an eighteen-million-dollar complex. Giving us two buildings and a couple hundred thousand is like a slap in our faces,” Clara snapped.

“All we want is what we're due,” Caleb tacked on.

My eyes narrowed. “What you're due? Chris and Carter work hard for every penny they earn. You have got to be kidding me. You want to get paid for bringing your own damn children into the world? Do you even know their worth beyond what they earn? These boys—”

Carter squeezed my hand, cutting me off before I could explode into the rant I was dying to unleash. “It's no use. You're trying to appeal to their kinder, gentler side and they don't have one. At least, not where we're concerned. We're not their sons, we're just their meal tickets. Let me see where I can stash them for tonight so I can get a cashier's check to them in the morning.” He looked defeated. It broke my heart.

“No.” Carter's grandfather stood in the doorway. “This ends today.”

“Gramps, what are you doing here?” Carter asked.

“Chris texted me.” He nodded at Stavros. “Thanks for standing in; you should get back to your party.” Stavros bowed his head and left. “As for you two?” He pointed at Caleb and Clara in warning. “It's over.”

“Now, Dad,” Caleb said, trying to appeal to his father.

“Nope. We're done. I shouldn't have let it go on this long. Carter—sell both those buildings. The proceeds go into an account for these two. When the money is gone they can suck it up and get jobs like everybody else. No more yearly payouts, no more rent-free living, no more middle-of-the-year begging.”

“We can make life uncomfortable for Chris and Carter if we have to. We don't want to go that route,” Carla threatened.

I stared at her in confusion. What in the hell kind of mother was she? If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I don't think I would've understood it. Unfortunate as the scene was, it gave me better insight into the mind and heart of Carter Parks.

“No, you don't,” Gramps said. “Recently, I've gotten back in touch with my friend in intelligence, Jonas. You remember him, don't you Caleb?”

Caleb nodded and shuffled uneasily.

“Well, he was doing a little bit of work for me on another issue and I had him dig into some of y'all's shenanigans for the past few years. Let's say this: You take the settlement and walk away and we don't file fraud and forgery charges.”

“You can't keep me from seeing my boys!” Clara wailed.

I rolled my eyes.

Gramps folded his arms across his chest. “They will know where to find you if they want to see you. One last thing? If you roll up again without an invitation, we'll get a restraining order and shut the accounts down. Are we clear?”

Clara's eyes welled up with tears. “Is that what you both want?”

Chris looked at his watch. “I have curfew. I'll talk to you later, bro. Thanks, Gramps.” He moved toward the door and I stopped him. He looked down at me and I enveloped him in a big hug.