Any Man I Want (7 page)

Veronica had been a friend of ours ever since, Renee was kind of like our mortal enemy. She hated Jewel for finding happiness with Roman. She resented Beau for being Jewel's brother-in-law and not wanting her anymore. And she disliked me because . . . well . . . I took every opportunity to make her life hell at Royal Mahogany Cosmetics. I just plain didn't like her conniving ass. Ironically, Gregory and Beau had become good friends.

“Yeah, Beau introduced us a while back and he's brokered some deals for me. He and Roni are good people.”

“Yep. So you ready for all this?” I asked him.

“To stand up for Beau while he marries the perfect woman for him? Yeah, I'm ready for that.” He smiled widely.

I studied his face. “You are genuinely excited about this.”

“I am—why is that a surprise?”

“I don't know. Most guys don't love weddings.” Actually, most of the guys I knew thought they were a waste of time and money.

“I usually don't, but this is Beau with Belle. I mean, let's be real here, it's Beau . . . and God knows I never thought I'd see the day. Aren't you excited?” he wondered.

“I am delighted. Like you said, this is Beau we're talking about. But he's my brother.”

Carter shrugged. “He's my brother too.”

“On the one hand, that's really sweet. On the other hand... ew, what does that make us?” I scrunched up my nose.

He ran a finger down my nose. “Don't overthink it, princess. You and I are . . . close.”

Backing up toward my room, I smiled at him. “Close, huh?”

“Close like gonna get closer.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . promises, promises,” I crooned and then pointed at my watch. “Fourteen minutes, baller—we can't be late.”

“We most definitely cannot. I'll see your gorgeous self by the door in about five minutes.”

I whirled away. “See you then, handsome.”

Carter—Friday, May 27—11:23 pm

 

 

“I
'm too old for this shit,” I announced to the group at large as I waved off the topless chick gyrating in front of me, offering a bottle of champagne. It was me, Belle's father, Percy Richards, Beau, Roman, Pops, Greg, Belle's two brothers, Davis and Dalton, along with a Louisiana guy Beau and I knew from way back in the day, Batiste Landry.

“We all are, son,” Pops agreed, watching as a rail-thin woman with surgically enhanced boobs and buns twirled on a sparkly pole.

Beau stood at the edge of the booth and squinted around, “Is it me or are all these girls really, really—”

“—Surgically enhanced?” Roman offered.

“—Young enough to be jailbait?” Greg shook his head.

“—Limber?” Davis offered.

Percy smirked. “Boys, I don't want to act like the old dude in the club, but since I am probably the oldest cat in this place, could we just—”

“Find someplace quiet to have a drink and a cigar?
Mais oui
, that sounds like a plan,” Beau said and we all stood up with varying degrees of relief.

“My bad,” I apologized. “I asked the concierge to make us VIP reservations at a lounge for a bachelor party and she automatically assumed this is what we wanted. And when no one said anything when we walked in, I decided to suck it up for you guys.”

“It's not that big of a hardship watching naked women shake their booties, but I have to admit, some of the appeal is gone,” Batiste said, shrugging, as we slid out the booth.

“Wait,” Beau said. He and I exchanged looks. “
Mon ami
, for old times' sake?”

I chuckled, “Oh, why the hell not?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a money clip. “Ladies?” It was almost comical how the sight of a stack of bills caused a ripple of energy to run through the place. I stepped over toward the stage and shuttled the bills up in the air, making them rain down in increments. I backed out of the way as girls and customers alike scurried over to grab up what they could. With a gesture, I led the fellas out of the club and back to the limo. I leaned over and gave instructions to the driver. He nodded and held the door while we all climbed in.

“I wonder what the girls are doing?” Roman asked and all heads swiveled toward him.

“You whipped like that?” Davis laughed.

“Have you seen my wife?” Roman asked him with a raised brow.

“Not just his wife, mine too, all those ladies. Not a one of them is hard on the eyes. You think they went the male stripper route?” Greg wondered.

“Naw, Belle's too classy for that,” Dalton said.

“I know my daughter and she goes toe to toe with Beauregard. I wouldn't be so sure,” Percy said, smiling.

Pops snorted and pointed at Dalton. “Son, that's your sister, so I mean no disrespect, but any woman hooked up with Beau is no angel.”

“Amen,” Beau agreed.

“Isn't your wife with them, Pops?” Batiste asked.

“Ain't no angel married to me either. I don't know about you boys, but them angelic women bore me to tears. They wouldn't want me and I sure wouldn't know what to do with one. I like a woman with a devil dancing a jig on one shoulder while the angel sits on the other,
tu comprends
?”

“Makes sense to me,” I agreed. Not that there was anything wrong with a saintly woman, except when you're the kind of man who knew regular intervals of holiness were not realistic for him. “I like a woman with a little more naughty than nice.”

“This explains Katrina's appeal to you then,” Roman said drolly.

“Right, 'cuz without that she's such a troll otherwise?” Greg asked.

“Own money. Drop-dead gorgeous. Brains. Well-raised. Sense of humor.” Dalton looked at Pops. “Any nieces or second cousin's daughters you'd like to introduce me to?”

Pops gave him the stink-eye. “This one hung around for fifteen years and I'm still not sold on him with my
bèbè
. You ain't been round but a minute, youngun.”

“Whelp, you tried it,” Beau teased his future brother-in-law.

“He is a whole lotta try,” Percy teased his son.

The limo pulled to a stop in front of the Mirage hotel. “Gents, inside if you will.” I got out and led the way. We cut through the casino and headed toward the south entrance. We entered Rhumbar and a hostess came over to greet us immediately.

“Parks, party of nine,” I announced. Rhumbar was an upscale cigar lounge and cocktail spot with a laid-back vibe, grown-ups, and no loud music.

Her smile widened. “Welcome sir, we have an area reserved for you out on the patio.”

We cut through the leather seating and widely spaced aisles to head outside. A grouping of sofas and chairs overlooked a water feature and low-key jazz filtered in quietly from hidden speakers. We chose seats around the table and stretched out easily. A uniformed gentleman set out an ice bucket, glasses, three different bottles of scotch, and opened up a humidor. “Your choice, gentlemen.”

“This is nice.” Percy nodded, pulling out his cell phone.

“I'm gonna post this to the Facebook. You boys smile like you got good sense.”

Obligingly, we all huddled in and smiled while Percy figured out how to click and post a picture. Batiste sloshed a small measure of a single-malt scotch into a tumbler and picked a cigar out. “Now this is more my speed.” He raised his glass. “To brother Beau on the eve of your nuptials, which none of us thought we'd live to see.”

“Amen.” Pops raised his glass.

“Brother Beau,” Roman toasted.

“And his beautiful bride,” I added.

“
Mais oui
.” Beau nodded with a smile.

“I have a question,” Dalton announced.

“Boy, are you waiting for permission to ask?” Percy shook his head. “Go head on.”

“All right then, no disrespect to you or my sister, but what turned the tide for you, Beau? What made you decide to become a one-woman man?”

“Why don't you ask the other married fellas?”

“The other married fellas weren't notorious stick men.” Dalton side-eyed him.

“Hold on now, I had some moves back in my day. Shoot. Still got a move or two now. You youngsters just don't know. Old school is the best school.” Pops stood up and did some little hip-swiveling jig that got the tables around us to send up a cheer. Pops bowed, smirked, and sat back down. Roman topped off his glass with a grimace and passed the bottle to Beau.

“Okay?” Batiste high-fived Pops. “Just because a bear only sips from one honeypot, don't mean he still can't growl.”

I cringed. “I will pay all of you not to take that metaphor any further. Answer the man's question, Beau.”

Beau beamed. “It's a cliché, but it's true. When you meet the one woman you don't want to lose, you commit. Period.”

“But how did you know she was that one woman?”

“I just knew.” Beau shrugged. “There was a specific moment when I was in a bar with Pops, Roman, and Carter. This beautiful woman came over and asked if we would join her for drinks. I had no interest. Not even the slightest temptation. I knew what I had at home was better. That's when I knew.”

“That's deep,” Davis said.

Katrina—Saturday, May 28—8:07am

 

 

I
cracked one eye open and squinted against the obscenely bright light coming in through the window. Rolling to my left, I encountered a hard, warm male body. Very hard. Very warm. My other eye flew open. In front of me was the chiseled, bare chest of a man. This was not a bad way to wake up. My eyes scrolled up and met Carter's amused gaze head-on.

“Wait . . . what?” I sat up, realized I was naked, and slid back down under the sheet. “
Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce que je fais
? What did I do?” I glared at Carter. “What did
you
do?”

He looked at me drolly. “Really, you think I waited for you to be drunk and sloppy to have my way with you? I'm that guy?”

I reached out and raised the sheet to see that he had boxers on. “Apparently not. I was drunk
and
sloppy? One other question for you . . . why am I the only one naked?”

“Diva, you came in here and tossed your clothes off. When I brought you a nightgown, you stuffed it under the mattress.”

I rolled over and sure enough, there was a flimsy piece of purple cotton peeking out from in between the mattress and box springs. I fell back against the pillows with my eyes closed. “I wish I could remember why I thought those last two glasses of champagne were a good idea.”

“Champagne always seems like a good idea at the time,” Carter answered agreeably, propping up against the headboard.

“Is this . . .” I looked around again. “This isn't even my room.”

“No ma'am, it is not.”

“Don't be charming,” I admonished. “I sense I made a fool of myself last night.”

“I don't find a beautiful, naked woman climbing into bed with me foolish at all. It was quite endearing,” he intoned calmly.

I winced. “Oh, lordy—it's starting to come back to me. Was I dancing and singing?”

“Most of Justin Timberlake's greatest hits, I believe.”

“No.”

“Yes, you even broke out some nostalgic *NSYNC to round out the catalog. You have a pretty nice, smoky alto singing voice. Another Kit-Kat hidden talent.” He seemed unnecessarily amused.

“Why didn't you stop me?” I complained.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed. “I tried. You were a woman on a mission.”

Hell if I knew. I remembered leaving dinner and heading to the Thunder Down Under Male Revue with the girls and having champagne. I remembered stopping at the Paris Hotel where Veronica got on a hot streak at the roulette table. She was buying novelty drinks for the table. I know I started drinking something fruity out of a large plastic replica of the Eiffel Tower. (This, in hindsight, was not a good idea.) I remembered Mom and Aunt Yo-Yo leaving and the rest of us going to a club. I remembered ordering more bottles of champagne. Everything else was a blur. I sat up, sobered. “I hope I didn't do anything stupid that's going to end up on YouTube. I can't afford any more negative publicity.” I couldn't believe I'd let my guard down.

“When Jewel dropped you off last night she said the security guys we sent with you made sure that didn't happen,” Carter assured me.

“What security guys? I didn't see any security guys.”

“Well, if you saw them, they wouldn't be doing their jobs now, would they?”

I slapped my hand to my forehead and fell back against the pillows. “Whew, I'm an idiot. I know better. I never drink like that.”

He quirked a skeptical brow. “Uh, princess? I've seen you drink champagne like that a time or two before.”

I grimaced. I kept conveniently forgetting that he's known me for a long, long time. “Probably. Champagne is my kryptonite. I try and stay away from it unless I'm around people I trust. It tends to make me reckless.”

“I'll remember that.” He leaned over and kissed me on my forehead. “As much as I've dreamed of lying next to your fine naked self in bed, we gotta get moving.” He rolled out of bed and stretched his arms over his head, showcasing all that smooth skin stretching over rippling muscles. That was too much chocolate temptation for my blurry eyes this early in the morning. “Stop ogling and get it in gear, Kitty.”

I closed my eyes, groaned, and rolled over. “I need two Tylenol, a gallon of water, and six more hours of sleep.”

He smacked my left butt cheek as he strode past on the way to his bathroom. “I can't help you with the sleep thing, but check the nightstand.”

Sure enough, sitting on the nightstand to my right was a large bottle of water and two tablets. I sat up and reached for them gratefully. “Carter Evan Parks, you are so much awesome.”

He called out over the sound of water running. “Yeah, you told me last night right before you started singing ‘SexyBack' but after you did a decent video reenactment of ‘I Want It That Way.' ”

“But—” I stuttered and tossed back the Tylenol, “that's the Backstreet Boys.”

He snickered. “I tried to tell you that you were mixing your pop playlist. You said you didn't care.”

“What can I say? I like pop music and boy bands,” I admitted and drank some more water.

“Clearly. I actually don't have a problem with them per se. Admittedly, by the time the pink bra flew off on the second chorus of ‘SexyBack,' I decided to sit back and enjoy the show. I didn't care what you were singing.” He started the shower running and I climbed out of bed. He'd already seen it all anyway so I ambled naked into the bathroom just in time to watch him step into the stall.

Water sluiced down his form and I plunked down on the marble vanity to unabashedly watch as he grabbed a washcloth and soap and started cleansing areas I was itching to touch. He washed shins, thighs, and buttocks before soaping the cloth back up. I licked my lips while he cleaned his shoulders, neck, chest, and abs before moving the washcloth lower. Lucky washcloth. Literally, my palms were itching and saliva was pooling in my mouth. For the woman who was supposed to get any man I wanted, I stayed losing with Carter Parks. I needed to get me some of that and quickly. This peep show was tortuous. I crossed one leg over the other as a needy sound bubbled up from my throat. He glanced up and caught me watching. He stroked the washcloth slowly up and down his hardness while never taking his eyes off mine. It was, without a doubt, the hottest thing I'd ever seen. It was easily apparent how he earned the name Big Sexy.

“I can't decide if you're a saint or a sinner,” I murmured, folding my arms across my chest in hopes of easing the ache in my nipples.

“Like you,” he growled, growing larger and harder with each stroke, “I'm a little of both.”

“Do you need some help with that?” I offered, wishing with every fiber of my being that he'd say yes.

He ducked under the water to rinse the suds off and switched the temp from warm to cold. “Rain check?” He looked up and saw the irritation and frustration cross my face. It was starting to feel like he was playing games and I didn't like it. Not one bit.

Tossing the washcloth to the side, he strode out of the shower and stood in front of me. He unfolded my arms and uncrossed my legs, opening them wide before stepping in between them. His hands bracketed my rib cage and his thumbs stroked the underside of my breasts. I rested my arms on his shoulders and arched into his embrace, craving more.

He murmured against my temple. “Katrina, I'm hard enough to cut glass right now. You can't possibly doubt that I want you. But your brother, my best friend, is getting married in a little over four hours. You really think that if I do what I'm dying to do, what you want me to do at this moment, we're going to want to leave the room anytime soon?”

Heedless of the icy drops of water falling off of him and onto me, I ran my hands down his body and dug my fingernails into his taut ass, pulling him closer. We both moaned as his erection slid against my wetness. I was so open and he was right there. So close to exactly where I needed him. His shaft twitched involuntarily and I shuddered in reaction. His breathing was serrated and rough in my ear. I knew he was hanging onto his control by a thread. I also knew I didn't want our first time together to be a rushed hit-and-quit with one eye on the clock. “If we're gonna get out of this room, you need to get back into that cold shower and I need to head back to my side of the suite,” I whispered.

“Okay then.” He released his hold on me and clenched his fists as he took two steps back. I slid off the counter onto shaky legs.

The tension between us was thick. We were on the edge of something. Good or bad, I didn't know, but it was definitely something. I tried to joke it off. “All this unfulfilled hotness and me without my vibrator.”

His gaze sharpened and his hand reached out to grasp my wrist. “Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't take the edge off. Keep a lid on all the unfulfilled hotness. Save it for me.”

“What about you and your washcloth games, you gonna keep that bottled up?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Why?”

“We're worth the wait.”

Dammit, he always said something that I couldn't argue with. We stood there facing off, naked in every single way in front of each other. No artifice, no guile. Part of me wanted to get an attitude, part of me wanted to walk away, part of me wanted to push him down onto the bathroom rug and hop aboard. Instead, I nodded slowly. “Okay Carter, I'll see you over in the villa later?”

“I'll be there,” he said.

“Worth the wait,” I repeated.

“Absolutely,” he reiterated.

I sighed, turned on my heel, and marched away. On my way back to my room I picked up articles of my clothing I'd flung off at some point last night. I yanked a pump encrusted with pink Swarovski crystals out of the potted fern by the love seat and glanced around for the mate before shaking my head. I swear to God, I'd spent more time naked and half naked in front of Carter with very little return for my efforts. We'd only been “dating” for a week and already Big Sexy was the biggest pain-in-the-ass boyfriend I'd ever had. And the best. That said something about me that I was in no condition to explore. Catching a glance of myself in the bathroom mirror, I stifled a shriek.
Not a good look, Katrina.
I had less than an hour to pull myself together and get over to the Bellagio private villa to help Belle get ready to marry my brother. I twisted my hair atop my head and secured it with a clip. I'd start with a cold shower and go from there. It was going to be a very long day.