Any Way You Want It (12 page)

“It’s Herve Leger,” she gasped out, as if the answer should be obvious. “No panties required.”

Remy gave a shuddering groan. “Thank you, Herve.”

He curled two fingers inside her, sending shivers down her spine and blood to her clitoris. She moaned, her head falling back against the door as he pressed deeper, his thumb slowly circling her engorged clit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled huskily against her throat. “You’ve been wet for me all night, haven’t you?”

Zandra could only nod and thrust against his hand, aching for more. His fingers tunneled deeper, probing the hot wetness of her pussy until her juices seeped out onto his knuckles. She gasped and bucked her hips as he slid in and out of her, watching her face contort with ecstasy.

And then he curved his fingers right into her G-spot.

As she lost it, he crushed his mouth to hers to muffle the sounds of her orgasm.

Closing her eyes, she rode out the waves of mind-numbing sensation.

She heard the soft hiss of a zipper, then felt the blunt head of Remy’s cock nudging between her folds.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

When she obeyed, he shoved into her.

She almost screamed with pleasure.

As he began fucking her, there was something so erotic about the way he stared into her eyes that hedonistic chills raced down her spine.

She clung to him, her stilettos dangling off her feet as he pounded her against the door, rocking the walls of the stall. Her dress was bunched around her waist and his hands were wrapped around her ass, spreading her cheeks wide as he thrust so deep she felt him in her stomach.

He leaned down, and their mouths came together in a heated frenzy. The kiss was raw, primal, teeth clashing, tongues plunging and retreating.

Moments later Remy groaned and went off like a geyser, coming inside her.

Zandra erupted at the same time, biting her lip hard to keep from screaming his name.

In the minutes that followed, they held each other tight, their harsh breaths echoing in the silence of the empty bathroom.

When Remy lifted his head from her shoulder, Zandra slapped him across the face.

Surprised, he scowled at her. “What was that for?”

“For making me worry about you. I heard about what happened in Abu Dhabi. The details were sketchy, so I had to call a friend at the U.S. Embassy just to make sure there were no American casualties before I got ahold of Roderick.” She poked Remy in the chest. “Why the hell didn’t you call me when you got home yesterday?”

He stared at her, his eyes glimmering with mirth.

“You think this is funny?”

“No, ma’am.” He sobered. “I didn’t mean to worry you, but considering the way we parted on Monday, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“
What?
You didn’t think I’d want to know if you were dead or alive?”

He grinned. “Last time I saw you, darling, you looked mad enough to kill me yourself.”

“That’s besides the point.” But her lips were twitching. “The
next
time something like that happens, at least have the courtesy to let me know you’re okay. Okay?”

“Aye aye, Miss Kennedy.”

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t help smiling as he tenderly kissed her forehead, her closed eyelids and the tip of her nose before nibbling her lower lip. Running her hands up and down his strong back, she sighed languorously. “This is crazy, Rem. Someone could have walked in on us.”

“And they’d have walked right back out,” he murmured.

She laughed softly. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t care either.”

Zandra grinned, Skylar’s words echoing through her mind.
You need a bad boy.

Skylar would be so proud—and probably jealous—if she knew what Zandra and Remy were up here doing.

She sighed again. “We’d better get back downstairs before we’re late to dinner.”

“I’d rather stay right here and have dessert.”

“Mmm.” She shivered as his warm lips nuzzled the sensitive skin below her ear. “Stop by my apartment later, and you can have all the dessert you want.”

Remy met her gaze, his eyes glinting wickedly. “Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely.” Tracing his lips with her tongue, she purred, “You were an officer. Now be a gentleman and put me down before someone catches us.”

* * *

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Noelani told Remy on the way back to his apartment later that evening.

Reclining against the plush leather seat of the Bentley limo, Remy smiled lazily at her. “I did, too.”

Noelani smiled with pleasure.

With a cascade of long dark hair, exotically slanted eyes, dusky skin and curves galore, she was a stunner. When she seductively crossed her legs, Remy couldn’t help watching as the slit in her red gown exposed her smooth bare thighs.

Slowly lifting his eyes to hers, he took a deep swallow of the Hennessy and Coke she’d fixed him.

“Is it good?” she purred.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wonderful.”

He smiled at her.

She smiled back.

When he softly began rapping the lyrics to an old eighties tune, Noelani laughed. “Are you singing ‘Hawaiian Sophie’ to me?”

Remy grinned crookedly. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. You must get that a lot.”

“Often enough.” Her eyes glinted. “But this is the first time I haven’t minded.”

Remy chuckled, sipping his drink.

Noelani shifted on the seat, revealing more thigh.

“So,” Remy began conversationally, “what made you leave Hawaii?”

“My family moved here when I was fifteen.”

“All of, what, five years ago?”

Noelani laughed, batting her dark lashes at him. “You’re very sweet, but I assure you that I’m older than twenty.”

He knew that, of course. Beneath her flawless makeup, he could see faint lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes. Zandra didn’t hire anyone under the age of twenty-four. She preferred her escorts to be older, which translated into more experience, maturity and sophistication.

He smiled at Noelani. “You like working for Zandra?”

“Of course. What’s not to like? Being one of her escorts enabled me to put myself through grad school, and now I’m working on my doctorate. Not only that, but I get to meet great guys like you and attend the ritziest parties.” She smiled, her expression softening with warmth. “On top of all that, Zandra’s pretty damn amazing.”

“That she is,” Remy softly agreed.

From the moment he saw Zandra tonight, he’d wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder, carry her out of the museum and take her home for a long, hot, raunchy night of sex. Lovemaking. Fucking. Whatever you wanted to call it, as long as he was buried balls-deep inside her.

Every time they’d made eye contact, it had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to act on his primal urges. Watching her slink around in that dress had been more torturous than anything he’d suffered during Hell Week at Coronado Island. She’d wafted through the crowd—hair swaying, lips glistening, hips undulating—mesmerizing and seducing every male whose path she crossed.

When he saw her sneak out to use the restroom, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to follow her and let nature take its course.

Just thinking about the smokin’ hot sex they’d had made his dick hard.

Which was damn inconvenient at the moment.

Reminding himself of the purpose of his mission, Remy forced Zandra from his mind and refocused his attention on Noelani.

Unless he was imagining things, she’d moved closer to him on the seat.

Not. Good.

But he had to see this through to the end.

“So, Noelani,” he said casually, setting aside his drink, “how does your boyfriend feel about you working as an escort?”

She gave him an amused look. “What makes you think I have a boyfriend?”

“Come on,” Remy gently guffawed. “A beautiful woman like you?”

A coquettish smile curved her lips. “The world is full of beautiful women who are alone,” she pointed out.

“And that’s why the world is so messed up.”

She laughed softly.

Making his move, Remy bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder.

She shivered, gooseflesh teasing his lips.

Come on,
he silently urged.
Push me away. Tell me to stop.

“Remington?”

He smiled against her skin. “I thought I told you to call me Remy.”

“Right.” Her voice quivered. “Remy?”

“That’s better,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes, letting him kiss his way up the smooth curve of her neck. When she didn’t speak, he prompted, “Yes, Noelani?”

He felt her swallow.

“Are you and Zandra sleeping together?”

The question took him by surprise. He went still, then pulled back and stared at her. “What?”

She met his gaze. “I could tell by the way you were watching her this evening that you have feelings for her.”

Shit,
Remy thought. He’d tried like hell not to even look at Zandra. When that failed, he’d tried not to be too obvious. But he just couldn’t help himself.

“Did you set up this date to make her jealous?” Noelani asked bluntly.

If only it were that simple.

“No,” Remy answered. But he acknowledged that the timing of his request had been fueled by Zandra’s insistence on going out with that loser.

As Noelani quietly studied him, he felt an unwelcome pang of guilt for deceiving her. For deceiving Zandra.

Turning his head, he glanced out the window. They had reached his downtown apartment building.

The driver got out and came around to open the back door for Remy.

He hesitated for a long moment, then looked at Noelani and winked. “Thanks for a great evening.”

She smiled. “My pleasure.”

As he moved to climb out of the limo, she said softly, “Remy.”

He glanced back at her.

She reached out, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. Her quiet smile was tinged with something like regret.

“I hope Zandra knows what a lucky woman she is. And if she doesn’t...you owe it to her to tell her.”

Chapter Eleven

A
s a young woman, Johanna Sturgill-Kennedy had spent her summers working as a hostess at a posh country club. It was there that she met and snagged her first husband, the heir to a waterproof fabric fortune. Gunther Sturgill gave Johanna all the trappings of wealth she’d always coveted—a mansion on Lake Shore Drive, a horse farm in Kentucky, fancy cars and jewelry, lavish furs to keep her warm during brutal Chicago winters. She’d had the best of everything.

When Gunther became sick, he’d entrusted his estate planning to Landis Kennedy, a shrewd, quietly intense attorney who’d piqued Johanna’s interest from the moment they met. He’d struck her as an ambitious man who was going places, and something about the way he looked at her brought a forbidden shiver to her skin.

Three days after Gunther’s funeral, she and his family had gathered in the library for the reading of the will. There were no surprises. As expected, Gunther had left his grieving widow and two children a sizable fortune.

After everyone departed, Johanna poured herself and Landis a glass of bourbon. After just two sips, they were fucking like animals on top of the antique desk. It was exhilarating, like nothing she’d ever experienced with Gunther.

Four months later, she and Landis were married. Their wedding set tongues wagging, but Johanna was used to that.

When Landis became involved in politics, she began dreaming of state dinners and gracing the covers of magazines. So she was ecstatic when Landis shared his decision to run for mayor. She had the wealth. Now she desired the prestige of ascending to the top of Chicago’s power structure. And there was no reason to stop there. If voters wanted to send another Chicago politician to the White House, let it be her husband.

But for now, she had to do whatever was necessary to help get him elected to mayor.

That meant dealing with his estranged daughter.

Mentally squaring her shoulders, Johanna strode toward the curb where an older black man stood sentry beside a Rolls-Royce Phantom. He nodded to her and opened the back door, and she lowered herself into the car.

Zandra Kennedy sat at the other end of the plush seat. She was gazing out the window, her eyes shaded by designer sunglasses.

Johanna stared at her striking profile. Zandra was even more beautiful than she’d appeared in photographs.

Johanna hated her on sight.

She waited for the girl to turn and acknowledge her. When that didn’t happen, she frowned and said crisply, “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“I have a luncheon at noon,” Zandra said with cool hauteur, “so I don’t have much time to waste.”

Johanna bristled at the affront. “I’m sorry that you consider taking a drive with your stepmother such a waste of your time.”

Zandra slowly removed the sunglasses and lowered them to the lap of her white linen pantsuit. Dark, long-lashed eyes met Johanna’s.

“What do you want? Or do I even have to ask?”

“Hello to you, too, Zandra,” Johanna parroted mockingly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you after all this time.”

Zandra just looked at her.

Beneath the veneer of sultry femininity, Johanna sensed an iron will that would not be easily broken.

Mentally reassessing her approach, she settled deeper into the seat and smoothly crossed her legs. “Your father was disappointed that you were unable to attend our wedding.”

“Oh, I was able,” Zandra countered sardonically. “I was
unwilling.
”

Johanna gave her a look of reproach. “Your father is the only family you have left.”

“Oh, I have some distant cousins who come around every now and then when they need money.” Zandra smirked. “
They’re
more family to me than your husband.”

Johanna frowned. “I’m sorry you feel that way, especially since you’re Landis’s only child. I have two boys, but I always wanted a daughter. I wouldn’t have minded getting to know you.”

Zandra sighed with exaggerated patience. “I have no quarrel with you, Johanna.”

“Maybe not, but your quarrel with your father impacts me.” Johanna paused. “I wanted to attend yesterday’s fundraiser gala, but your father refused because he knew you’d be there. And it’s not the first time.”

“Pity. But that’s not my problem.” Zandra glanced at her gold wristwatch. “Can we get on with this?”

Johanna clenched her jaw. “Very well. As you may know, your father has decided to run for mayor. In the process of vetting his background, his campaign advisors discovered that—”

“I know where this is going,” Zandra coldly interrupted, “so let me just cut to the chase. I’m not relocating my escort agency. Period. If I were dealing with anyone else, I would be shocked and appalled by the unmitigated audacity of such a request. But since I’m dealing with Landis Kennedy, nothing he says or does could ever shock me. Apart from that, it’s utterly absurd to think that running me out of town will solve his dilemma. If his political opponents want to use me as a pawn, it won’t matter
where
my business is located.”

Johanna secretly agreed. But Landis was convinced that Zandra would be a liability to his campaign, and Johanna couldn’t have that.

“From what I understand,” she said coolly, “people in your line of work move around all the time.”

“I don’t,” Zandra said with implacable calm. “I have no reason to run and hide from the authorities.”

“Don’t you?” Johanna challenged.

“No. I don’t.”

Johanna pursed her lips with distaste. “I don’t even understand why you’re involved in that type of business. You’re an intelligent, highly educated woman. Your father told me that you have an economics degree from Oxford and a master’s from Northwestern. You’re influential and well regarded in artistic circles. You could be running your own art gallery instead of a...a...”

“Brothel?” Zandra supplied.

Johanna flushed uncomfortably. “I wasn’t going to use that word.”

“You didn’t have to. Your husband already did.” A trace of mockery curved Zandra’s lips. “You know, we’re not so different, you and I. We both came from nothing, and we both did whatever it took to survive.”

Johanna held Zandra’s steely gaze for a moment, then swallowed hard and glanced out the window. They were heading south on Michigan Avenue, passing the manicured greenery of Grant Park on one side, and modern skyscrapers and hotels on the other.

Johanna turned back to Zandra. “I don’t understand why you and your father can’t put the past behind you once and for all. Your father—”

“—has demons.” Zandra’s lips twisted cynically. “And I happen to be one of them.”

Johanna frowned, nervously fingering the cultured pearls around her slender throat. “I know you may find this hard to believe, but I love Landis.”

“So did my mother. And loving him destroyed her.” Haunted dark eyes met Johanna’s. “If I were you, I’d be careful.”

A chill ran through Johanna. “I don’t know what happened in the past. I’ve never asked, and I don’t plan to. All I can tell you is that your father is a wonderful man, and he’s been nothing but good to me and my children.”

Zandra smirked. “Then you’re lucky. He was never good to me or my mother.”

Johanna frowned.

“Everything is going well for him now,” Zandra smoothly continued. “After my mother passed away, he was able to attend law school like he’d always wanted. And then he struck gold by meeting you. Now he gets to enjoy your wealth and connections, his political career looks promising, and he doesn’t have the burden of raising a child he never planned for or wanted. Life is good for him.” Zandra paused. “Let his circumstances change, and you may see an entirely different side of him.”

Johanna swallowed with difficulty.

“Does he know you came to see me?” Zandra inquired.

Johanna hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“Then you’d better hope he doesn’t find out.”

Johanna felt another chill of foreboding.

Zandra lowered the privacy glass to speak to her driver. “Norman, would you please turn around and take Mrs. Kennedy back to the restaurant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zandra slid her sunglasses back on, all but dismissing Johanna.

It infuriated her. Who the hell did this girl think she was?

“People are very fickle, Zandra. One day you’re the toast of the town. The next day you’re a pariah.” Johanna smiled narrowly. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Zandra gave her a smile etched in steel. “And you’d do well to remember what I said about your husband. Perhaps the reason you’ve never asked about the past is that you don’t
want
to know. One can only wonder why.”

Long after Johanna returned to the opulence of her mansion, Zandra’s warnings haunted her.

Zandra smiled her way through the women’s empowerment luncheon.

She kissed rouged cheeks, laughed charmingly, received invitations to more socials.

She posed for photographs, and accepted congratulations for raising the funds needed to renovate a cultural arts center on the South Side.

She pretended that everything was perfectly normal.

On the way home, she asked Norman to stop at her favorite gourmet coffee shop. She ordered a café au lait, sat at a small table in the corner and stared out the window until she was transported back in time to the bustling streets of Paris.

When she arrived home, she peeled off her clothes and put on her robe. Then she padded to the living room and roamed around gazing at her mother’s paintings, feeling Autumn’s spirit through every delicate but powerful brushstroke.

When she felt strong enough, Zandra made her way to her bedroom closet, unlocked the hidden safe and retrieved the letter that had been delivered to her a week after her mother’s funeral. The letter no one but Remy knew about.

Autumn’s suicide note.

Zandra ran her eyes over the page, though she’d long ago memorized every word, knew the slanting curve of each letter.

* * *

My dearest Zandra,

I’m sorry. I know those words cannot begin to assuage the pain and confusion you’re feeling right now, but I had to say them. I’m sorry. I tried for so long, but I can’t run this race anymore. I’m tired, and my spirit needs rest.

Thank you for Paris. Being there made me the happiest I’ve been since the day you were born. I don’t know how someone like me could have given life to such a ferociously strong daughter, but I thank God for it, and I thank God for you.

Be your own woman, darling, but never be afraid to open your heart. The right man will know how to take care of it.

I hope, in time, you will forgive me for leaving. I had to, and now I’m at peace.

Love forever and always,

Mom

* * *

Zandra carefully folded up the letter, but she didn’t put it away. Her throat ached, but her eyes were dry. She wouldn’t cry.

Not this time.

She sat down on her bed, curled her legs up to her chest.

Night fell, plunging the room into shadows.

She didn’t move.

Her cell phone rang.

Calls from Colin, Skylar and Racquel Brand went unanswered.

When Remy called, she reached over and picked up the phone because she knew he’d come over if he couldn’t get in touch with her. And if he found her like this, he’d hold her and murmur soothingly to her, and she would cry.

Sounding as normal as she could, she told him she was having dinner with a client, and he told her he was hanging out with his brothers. She smiled, sent them all her love and wished Remy a good time.

Then she calmly hung up the phone.

Still holding her mother’s letter, she closed her eyes to the darkness blanketing her bedroom, wishing it were as easy to banish the darkness in her soul.