Can't Get Enough of You (3 page)

“Did you come to preach? I've heard it before. Give it a rest.”

“I'm serious, Scott. Ever since you returned to Detroit, you haven't been yourself. I don't like it,” she cried out, tears slipping from sad, dark eyes.

Scott went over and gave her a hug. “Please, don't! I'm not worth it.” He swallowed with difficulty.

“How can you say something like that? You are my brother, and I love you.” She brushed away tears.

“Come on, Sis, quit the water works. How are the kids? How is Donald?”

She smiled at the mention of her family. “Donald is at the office, and he is fine.”

“Where are the kids? Don't tell me you left them with a sitter?” He went back to the table and retrieved his steaming mug.

“Donnie's in school and Brianna's with Mama.” She stared into the bowl of eggs she'd been whipping before she said, “Our mother is also worried about you. We all are.”

“Aw, Sis. That's low.”

“If you're bored, you can go and work with Donald. You own a sizeable part of the company.”

“I'm not bored.”

“Then what?”

Brother and sister were close. Time and distance hadn't changed that. Their years of living together while she'd been single, and he a teenager, had strengthened their bond. They weren't just brother and sister; they were also friends.

When he ignored her question and sipped from his cup, Taylor sighed heavily.

“I thought you liked this house, but you haven't done a thing to it since you moved in. When are you going to buy some furniture? Just look at this place. You're living in a million-dollar pigpen. What happened to that housekeeper you hired?”

“I fired her. I don't need anyone. I can take care of my own home.”

“Really? And you are doing a fine job on your own, oink-oink!” she threw back sarcastically, missing her brother's quick grin. “There was not a clean spot in the whole kitchen . . . a beautiful modern kitchen that any woman would love to work in. It's a shame, too. I had to clean before I could cook. Not one clean dish in the entire place.” She paused to catch her breath before she asked, “By the way, when was the last time you ate a home-cooked meal? Not recently,” she went on to say, “judging by the stack of take-out cartons I shoved into the trash.”

“What difference does it make as long as I eat? When did you get so picky?”

Taylor looked as if she wanted to smack him upside his head. Instead, she flipped the bacon frying on the griddle, then began dicing vegetables for an omelet.

“Stop mothering me, I'm fine.” He cradled the large coffee mug in his wide palms as he watched the squirrels' antics in the yard.

“Fine? Hardly. Ordering endless cases of beer isn't the answer. You have nothing to eat in your refrigerator, you knucklehead! Not even milk, eggs, bread, or juice . . . the basics! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were raised by wolves.”

“Go home, Sis. I'm a big boy, you don't have to take care of me.”

“Keep it up, and I will take back not just the food but also the two loaves of banana nut bread I made this morning,” Taylor said as she slid the perfectly cooked omelet brimming with cheese and mushrooms—just the way he liked it—onto a plate.

“You brought banana nut bread?” Grinning, Scott kissed her cheek. “Sorry, Taylor, I didn't mean a word. You know I love you.”

“Yeah,” she said giving him the plate. “Go ahead, eat. I'll get the orange juice.”

Scott's stomach growled from hunger. “Mmm, this is good. I hope Donald knows he's a lucky man.”

“He knows. That's not the issue.” Taylor brought over a plate of sliced banana nut bread and her own mug. Sipping her coffee, she joined him at the table. “You've got to stop drinking. No decent woman would have you.” She glanced at him and saw the hurt in his eyes before he turned his face to look outside. Placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing, she quickly added, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I know you still miss Jenna.”

“You know nothing about it. There have been plenty of women in my life since we broke up. Why'd you bring her up? That is old news.” He went back to eating.

“Is it? I wonder.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven't been really happy with a woman in years. At least not the way you were with Jenna.”

“That was more than ten years ago! Believe me, there have been a lot of women since her.” Scott scowled. He was shaking from a deep-seated anger he wouldn't be able to explain if he'd been questioned about it. Why was he getting so worked up? Why should hearing her name throw him?

“It's being back in Detroit without her, isn't it? That's what is bothering you.”

Scott shook his head, determined to concentrate on his breakfast. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Jenna. “You're wrong. I moved on a long time ago. I suggest you do the same.”

If Taylor had her doubts, she didn't voice them. She got up and began to empty the dishwasher.

“Stop that. If I need maid service, I'll call one. Why can't you sit down? Tell me about the kids. How's Donnie doing in school?”

“Okay, no housekeeper or maid service. No problem. I'll just call Virgina Hendricks. The next thing you know, she will be moving in with you, little brother, and straightening out your sorry behind. Your mama don't play.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I'm serious. You're drinking like a fish, acting like basketball was your entire life, and it wasn't.”

“How do you know what's in my life anymore? I've changed, Taylor. I'm not the same kid you helped raise. I'm all grown up.”

She huffed, “You haven't changed that much. I'm talking about who you are on the inside. You were never just a ballplayer. You did a lot of community work while you were in Charlotte and L.A.”

“Community work? Like hell! What I did was sign a few checks!”

Taylor shook her head. “It was more than that. You worked with the homeless shelters and Habitat for Humanity after Katrina. You went down to New Orleans and not only gave money but worked. You've hosted basketball camps every summer for kids here in Detroit. You did more than sign a few checks.

“Open your eyes, brother dear. The world didn't end when you retired from the NBA. It's still turning each and every day. What? You think Detroit can't use your help? Think again. There are homeless people here and lost boys all over this city, not believing in their own worth. Bored? Go volunteer at the Malcolm X Community Center. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out and help somebody. You're not the only one with problems.”

“Why don't you go home and take care of your baby?”

“And leave you alone, right?”

“Right! Why can't you get it through your head that there are some things that my big sister can't fix?”

Taylor sighed, then said, “I decided not to tell you, but I can see it will be worse if you hear this from anyone else.”

“What?” he asked after a prolonged silence.

“While shopping at the mall, I ran into Jenna. She has moved back to the city and is teaching at U of D-Mercy.”

Three

S
cott's heart began to race. His mind filled with questions. Back? Back from where? Had she been alone? Or had she found a man she could control? Someone who would let her run his life to suit herself? Did she complete her all-so-important education?

He didn't voice even one of those questions. He had no business even wondering what she'd done over the years. He swore silently. His sister said nothing more but went right on unloading the dishwasher.

Fed up, he couldn't stop himself from asking, “How is she?”

“Jenna is fine. She's done well for herself. She just finished her doctorate.”

He nodded in satisfaction, genuinely happy for her. “She did it. Good for her. Why wouldn't I want to know she's well and happy? We parted on friendly terms. We just wanted different things from life. It happens every day of the week, without hard feelings.”

“That's not how it looked to me. You two were very much in love and hurt because of the breakup.”

“So? It's history. If you see her again, give her my best,” he offered.

“Funny, she said the same thing about you . . . her exact words were ‘Give him my best.' ”

Finished with his plate, he refilled his mug before saying casually, “See, no problems.” Deciding to change the topic, he asked, “Did I tell you my classes start next week? I've got all my books. I talked to my old chem professor. I'm really going to have to brush up on my chemistry. It's been awhile since I've worked in a lab. I plan to do this in two terms, not three. Think I can do it?”

Taylor laughed. “Of course, once you've set your mind to the task. Mama is so excited. I'm glad you're doing this. And not just for you, but for the promise you made Daddy.” She hugged him. “I'm glad. Classes starting couldn't have come at a better time.”

“I don't believe it! We finally agree on something. The drinking was only a minor distraction. I plan to ace all my classes. Come out with a four point o.”

“Sounds good. Now about that housekeeper—”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Nope. If you're not going to get help, at least let me and Mama finish furnishing the house. You're living in only three rooms of a twenty-plus-room mansion.”

“I tell you what. You'll be the first one I call when I'm ready.”

“But—”

“No buts. Now go home. I've got things to do.” He tempered his words by giving her a big hug. “Stop worrying.”

“How? I've been worrying about you since Mama and Daddy brought you home from the hospital.”

“Do me a favor . . . give it a try.”

As he kissed his sister good-bye, his thoughts weren't on the planned dinner with his family later in the week. He was struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that Jenna was in Detroit. And she was teaching at U of D-Mercy.

Taylor seemed pleased that Jenna had asked about him, while he expected no less. They'd parted on friendly terms. Jenna was merely being polite. His sister hadn't said so, but he wouldn't be surprised if Jenna was involved or even engaged by now. She'd always wanted a family of her own. Besides, there was no getting around the fact that she was an incredibly beautiful woman. Some things wouldn't change.

What difference did that make at this late date? A lot of time had passed, and what they'd shared was gone. It no longer mattered why they'd broken up. It may be corny, but he cared enough about her to genuinely want her to be happy.

Running into her on campus might prove to be awkward because of what they'd once shared, but that was okay. They had both moved on with their lives.

Since he'd moved back, he'd really indulged in his own pity-party, focusing on what was lost, not on the future. That had to end today. So what if he didn't play in the NBA? He had reasons to look forward, things to do before classes started. It was time he got started and stopped wasting daylight.

J
enna sighed. What had started out as a gorgeous autumn day, with foliage rich in reds and gold and a warm sun bright overhead, had turned out to be a disappointment. The waiting was frustrating. There were still no definite answers from Jack Collagen, the private investigator she'd hired to find her family. She was growing more impatient with each passing day.

Jenna had dressed in a beige tweed pantsuit teamed with dark brown tights and high-heel ankle boots. A crisp white blouse with French cuffs completed the outfit. Busy rifling through her pockets, she held up the line in the crowded cafe a block from the university. Jenna frantically searched a second time, then a third time. Nothing!

Highly embarrassed, she said to the annoyed cashier, “I'm sorry, but I have to put everything back.” She'd left her office with a twenty-dollar bill in her pocket and now stood in front of half the campus, unable to pay for her lunch.

“Let me get that for you,” a deep masculine voice said from just over her right shoulder.

“I couldn't . . .” She stopped. Recognizing the voice, she didn't have to turn around, but that was exactly what she did. “Scott!”

Although Jenna was tall at five feet eight, she had to look up—way up—to meet his twinkling dark brown eyes. She hadn't seen him in more than a decade, but she had no trouble recalling every inch of the smooth dark chocolate length beneath the dark green shirt and dark brown cords.

“There's nothing wrong with helping out an old friend, is there?” He didn't wait for an answer but handed over the money. He'd collected her tray and given the cashier a generous tip before Jenna had done more than stare at him in shocked dismay.

Jenna didn't know what to say or do, something that was rare for her. Wordlessly, she followed him across the crowded room to a small corner table.

“Please join me,” he said with a smile that made her heart skip a beat, “. . . unless you are meeting someone.”

Shaking her head no, Jenna finally found her voice. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. I'll pay you back. I can't believe I lost my money on the way over here. I can't figure out how I did it! And I didn't bother to bring a purse, so I don't have a credit card with me.” Realizing she was rattling on, she instantly closed her mouth.

“So you'll join me?”

How could she refuse, considering he had just bought her lunch?

“Yes and thank you.” She took the seat across from him. Feeling unbelievably awkward, she clasped her shaking hands in her lap. “So how have you been?”

He reclaimed his seat. “I'm well. It's good to see you. It has been a long time.” In his rich baritone, he revealed, “You look good, Jenna, professional and successful.”

Jenna laughed. “I don't feel very successful, considering I can't pay for my own meal.”

“We all have awkward moments. Believe me, I've had my share. I hear you're back in Detroit and are a full-fledged professor here at U of D-Mercy.” As if it had been a champagne flute, Scott lifted his soft drink container in a toast. “Congratulations, Jenna.” After taking a swallow, he said, “You made it happen.”

Jenna blushed. They both knew what sacrifice she'd made in order to make it happen: the dissolution of their relationship. Not about to touch on that subject, she simply said, “Thank you. And congratulations to you. I hear you've retired at the top of your game. And you've moved back to the area.”

He grinned. “Don't need to guess the source of your information, now, do we?”

“Taylor!” They laughed as they both said the name at the same time.

Then there was an uncomfortable silence, as if each was searching for something to say, which was ridiculous, considering how well they knew each other. Once, they'd had no secrets.

“How does it feel to be back in college?” She indicated the chemistry books piled on the chair beside him.

Before he could answer, several students came to the table, asking for autographs. Although she wasn't surprised, she was impressed by his ease in handling the situation. He smiled, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket on the chair, pulled out postcard-size basketball cards, then signed before he politely, but firmly, excused himself.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a smile as he reclaimed his chair. “What did you say?”

She watched as he casually exercised the familiar move of leaning back in his seat and stretching long legs out in front of him. Scott's six-foot-eight-inch frame was as long and tight through the midsection as she remembered. There were obvious changes. He was packing a lot more muscle after more than ten years in the tough NBA. He'd shaved his head and sported a single diamond stud in his left earlobe. One look at his dark eyes revealed that at thirty, his boyish good looks had been replaced by faint lines near his eyes, on his forehead, and bracketing his lean cheeks. All spoke to the strength and character he'd gained over the years. Without a doubt, he was a confident, sophisticated man, comfortable in his own skin.

“College. How does it feel to be back?” She picked up the turkey and cheese sandwich that had caused so much trouble and began eating. It tasted like sawdust, but she chewed slowly, as if it had been prime rib.

“There are a few adjustments, but basically it's like riding a bike. It all comes back. I especially enjoy being back in the chemistry lab. And it didn't hurt that I've taken classes during my off-seasons. I only need five classes to finish.”

Jenna nodded. “I was surprised when Taylor told me you were back at U of D-Mercy. I assumed you preferred the L.A. lifestyle.”

“Detroit is home, especially since my family is here. It seemed right to come back to where I started. I have to admit it's taking some adjustments to being back in the city. There have been lots of changes. And I made a promise to my family years ago. It was a promise I intended to keep. Unfortunately, my father has gone, but my mother and sister aren't about to let me forget.”

Frowning, Jenna couldn't help recalling how deeply his decision to quit college and enter the NBA draft had hurt her and left a permanent rift between them.

“Something wrong with your sandwich?”

Shaking her head no, she took another bite. When she finished chewing, she said softly, “I was so sorry to hear about your dad's passing. How is your mother holding up?” She reached out to touch his hand where it rested on the table. Momentarily, she smoothed her fingertips over his knuckles in an all-too-familiar gesture. When she realized what she'd done, she jerked her hand back, busying her hands with opening her water bottle. She took a sip and, even though her lunch had lost its appeal, pulled back the peel of her banana, broke off a piece, and popped it into her mouth.

“Thank you. It was rough for all of us, but my mother is doing remarkably well. She loves living next door to her grandbabies. I assume Taylor told you all 'bout that as well.”

“Yes, I also had a chance to meet your little niece. She is adorable.”

Scott grinned. “A future heartbreaker, that one. I also have a nephew,” he said proudly. Then he paused before he went on to say, “Although I've been back for public appearances and basketball camps during the summer, I haven't lived in Detroit in years. How about you?”

Jenna tried not to show her surprise at his interest. “I finished my undergraduate and master's degrees here. Then I moved to New York City. I worked as a financial adviser and stockbroker for four years while finishing up my doctorate.”

“I'm impressed, but not surprised. I always knew you were a fighter. You never hesitated to go after what you wanted.” He tapped the third finger on her left hand. “No engagement or wedding rings? Why? Don't tell me the men in the Big Apple are blind.”

“Of course not, but like you, I've been concentrating on what was important to me . . . in my case, it was education. Finally I have my dream job and a new home. It's enough for now. If anyone should have settled down, I would have expected it to be you.”

Scott shook his head. “Nope. I haven't taken that big step yet. I suppose I haven't met the right woman. And the money has worked against me. Nowadays, I have to take care that it's not the main attraction. But I have no complaints. How about you?”

“None,” she echoed, lifting her chin in order to meet his searching gaze. “What's with the shaved head? Got tired of the barber?”

He chuckled. “When I hit twenty-five, I realized I was losing more and more each day. For vanity's sake, I shaved it all off. Do you like it?” He ran his hand over his smooth scalp.

“I do,” she replied, refusing to admit how it only added to his sex appeal.

“What about your family? Have you found them?”

Jenna recalled the hours they had done nothing but talk. And how she had shared her deep desire to have her brother and twin sister back in her life. They'd had no secrets.

She shrugged. “That hasn't gone as well as I would like. I've done all I can on my own. I learned that both Lenna and Lincoln were adopted, but I suspect both of them have had their names changed and that's why I haven't been able to locate them. Recently, I was finally able to hire a top private investigator to look for them. So the answer is no, but I haven't given up on finding my family.”