Gimme an O! (17 page)

Lecia thought she would have been sleeping by the time Anthony came out of the bathroom, but she wasn’t. She was suddenly too wired to nod off. Today had been long and tiring—too long and tiring—and she wanted to talk to him about the option of flying out of El Paso to New Orleans. Even if it would only take another day to drive there, they would still have to drive back the way they had come, meaning two more grueling days of travel after they had reached their destination.

The bathroom door squeaked as it opened. Lecia looked in that direction, then zapped her head around with lightning speed when she saw that Anthony wore only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, gosh,” she said. “Sorry. Tell me when you’re decent.”

“You don’t think I’m decent?”

His voice was deep, velvety smooth, making her stomach flutter. “Not like that you’re not, no.”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean…” He was more than decent. Which was
exactly the problem. “Just tell me when you’ve put your clothes on.”

“Not interested in seeing me buck naked?”

More fluttering, followed by a warming sensation all through her body. This wasn’t the first time Anthony had said something to her that could be construed as…well, as sexual. And she didn’t know what to make of it.

For one thing, the guy was married. Her whole reason for being with him was to help him get his wife back. So, clearly he couldn’t mean anything by his words. It was that simple. It was late, they were both tired, and he was simply being silly to lighten their stress level.

So why did that summation make her stomach churn with disappointment?

Because she was sick in the head, she thought. Weren’t most therapists? It was a laughing joke she had heard, more than she cared to, that people who became therapists did so because they needed help themselves.

“You can turn around,” he told her.

She did. Then, “Oh, God.” She covered her face with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I thought you were getting dressed. Putting some clothes on.”

“I did.”

“Barely.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a guy in briefs before.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Will you take your hands off your face? I can barely hear you. Aren’t you a sex therapist? Given what you do, seeing me in briefs has got to be tame by comparison.”

She opened her hands a crack so she could speak. “Hey. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sex…therapist.”

The meaning of Anthony’s words washed over her like a giant wave. “You think I sleep with my patients.”

“Isn’t that what sex therapists do?”

“Oh, God!”

“You don’t?”

“No!” Now she dropped both hands to gape at him. “I can’t believe you believe that.” She spoke with more gusto than necessary, but she wanted to drive the point home. She most certainly did not want Anthony thinking she slept with men as a profession.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My bad. That’s what I thought you guys did.”

“I told you how long it’s been since…you know. And professionally I’m not a surrogate. Surrogates have sex with their patients. Therapists
talk
.”

“Oh.” He paused, let that sink in. “You know, I like that a lot better.”

“Like what?”

“That you don’t have sex with your patients.”

“Really, now?”

“Yeah. Having sex with your patients is pretty freakin’ weird.”

“I never even considered that when I decided to go into sex therapy. It wasn’t for me. My interest has always been in getting people to dig beneath the surface of a problem so they can finally solve it.”

Anthony pulled back the covers as if to get into bed, then apparently thought better of it and wandered toward the
door. Lecia gave in to temptation and watched him. Lord, but he was one hunk of a man. Every muscle in his body was honed to perfection. The man was sexy as hell.

He secured the dead bolt and chain lock. As he turned, Lecia threw her hands over her face again.

“You’re gonna give me a complex.”

“I’m sorry. This just seems…wrong. You’re married.”

“We have separate beds.”

This wasn’t working. She was protesting way too much, which would only make Anthony think she wanted him.

“You’re right. I’m being silly. We’re both adults. No need to be embarrassed.”

She reached for the lamp on the night table, then remembered her purse. She always had it nearby in case she needed to take a puff of Ventolin in the middle of the night.

Looking around the room, she saw her purse on the small table near the door.

Damn!

“You’re not getting the light?” Anthony asked.

“Well, um. Yeah, of course.” It would be totally asinine to turn off the light and feel her way across the room, all to avoid Anthony seeing her in her very short shirt. She had waited until he disappeared into the bathroom to disrobe, and thought she was home free.

“It’s late,” he prompted.

“I just need to get my purse.” With her words, she crawled out of bed and pulled her
TRY A VIRGIN
shirt down as far on her thighs as it would go. It achieved the same effect as a wet T-shirt, perfectly outlining her breasts.

She released the shirt when she realized she was giving Anthony an eyeful.

You’re being absurd
, she told herself.

As she snatched up her purse, she was certain she gave Anthony a good view of her thighs, if not her ass. She all but ran back to the bed and escaped under the covers.

“Good night,” Anthony said.

Lecia turned the lamp off. “’Night.”

Something was wrong.

Lecia’s eyes popped open, the memory of where she was and why she was there zapping into her brain. She immediately glanced to the left.

The bed beside her was empty.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, listening.

She heard nothing. Where was Anthony?

Her eyes went to the clock. Ten-nineteen in the morning. Wow, she’d slept longer than she thought. Of course, it had taken her quite some time to fall asleep, because every time Anthony tossed or turned, she wondered if he was going to get out of his bed and slip into hers.

It was ridiculous, of course, but for some reason, she had lost her senses around this man.

Lecia threw off the covers and got out of bed. She wandered to the window and looked outside. Panic seized her when she didn’t see the Navigator.

She spun around. Surely Anthony wouldn’t have left her here in the middle of God only knew where. So where the hell was he?

“Getting breakfast?” she thought aloud. Or gassing up. But he would be back. She was sure of it.

Deciding this would be the perfect time to shower, Lecia hustled to the bathroom.

Lecia exited the bathroom with the flimsy towel wrapped around her body and stopped dead in her tracks. “Tony,” she rasped.

From the bed where he sat, he held up a large bag. “Clean clothes,” he said. “I found a Wal-Mart not too far from here.”

Her shoulders drooped with relief. “Oh, thank you!”

“I didn’t know what you wanted to eat for breakfast, so I figured we could stop somewhere.”

“Sure.” Lecia held the towel in place with one hand and took the bag from him with the other. Whirling around on her heel, she headed back into the bathroom.

“I didn’t know what you’d want. So I picked up a few choices.”

Lecia’s relief over the idea of fresh clothes soon fizzled when she saw what was inside the bag. A floral miniskirt, a body-hugging
short
black dress, and a form-fitting white lycra top. There was also a pair of low-rider jeans and three pairs of black thongs.

“They didn’t have any regular underwear?” she called out.

“There are three thongs in there.”

“I don’t—” She shut up.

“I thought every woman wore a thong these days.”

“I prefer sensible underwear,” she replied. “But this will do.” At least everything was clean.

She went into the bathroom with the clothes, put on a thong panty, then slipped into the jeans. They were too big and hung off her hips. She could never wear these, not without a safety pin.

That left…either the dress or the skirt.

She opted for the skirt. It barely covered the top of her thighs. The white top hugged her like a second skin.

As she checked out her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she groaned. This was so not her style. What was Anthony thinking?

But there was nothing she could do about it, not unless they headed back to Wal-Mart. Surely she could survive until they reached New Orleans, where she could buy some decent clothes.

She strolled out of the bathroom. Anthony’s eyes instantly perked up. He whistled. “Doc, you look hot.”

“I don’t usually dress like this,” she said glumly. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the thong lining the crack of her butt, but kept that thought to herself.

“Then you should. It’s very flattering.”

“You really think so? I don’t look like a tart?”

“No, you look cute. Sexy.”

Lecia wandered to the large mirror in the middle of the room. Through the reflection, she could see Anthony checking her out. Suddenly, the outfit didn’t look tartish or sleazy. It looked flirty and feminine.

Noticing that Anthony had already changed, she asked, “You ready to head out?”

“Uh-huh. Aren’t you?”

“Well, not quite. I thought I’d put on some makeup. I want to look civilized.”

“You look great.”

“Thanks. But all the same…”

“No problem. I’ll settle the bill and be right back.”

Lecia’s eyes lingered over Anthony’s body as he left the room. He had a commanding presence, one that mesmerized her. He had the kind of arms that would make a woman feel safe and secure. And a body that…

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about his body. But
instead she saw a clearer image of it, clad only in the briefs he had worn the night before. He had an impressive physique. Strong legs, washboard stomach. Ooh, man. What would it be like to ride him?

Her vagina tingled, startling her. Oh, boy. Was she actually getting her mojo back?

Talk about
completely
bad timing!

Lecia applied eyeliner and lipstick before there was a knock on the door. She hustled to answer it.

Anthony grinned down at her as she opened the door. “You know what else I have?” he asked, stepping into the room.

Lecia followed him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What?”

He dangled a small plastic bag as he walked backward.

“What is that?” Lecia asked anxiously.

“A surprise.”

Lecia marched toward him. “I don’t do surprises.” She reached for the bag, but he pulled his hand back. Losing her balance, her body lurched forward, tipping onto his.

Anthony fell backward on the bed, making a sharp moaning sound as he did. One of his strong hands snarled around Lecia’s waist as she landed on his chest.

She was too startled to say anything. She simply looked down at him. He looked up at her. For several seconds neither said a word. Only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard.

Lecia jerked when she felt the light, feathery touch on the back of her thigh.

“No, don’t get up.” Anthony’s arm tightened around her.

Her eyes widened in confusion. “No?”

“No.” His voice had lowered several octaves. “This feels good. Just like this.”

Her heart rammed against her rib cage. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. She was perched on top of Anthony Beals, wearing a wisp of a skirt and a thong beneath that. Not nearly enough clothes to save her from herself.

Her brain registered the sounds from the television. A newscaster was talking about rain in the Midwest. It dawned on Lecia that it was strangely intimate to be lying on a man who had a growing erection with ambience from the Weather Channel. Intimate because the moment was comfortable, like they had lain like this a million times and didn’t need soft music or other mood enhancers.

Anthony raised his head, buried it in the groove of her neck. Lecia bit down on her lip as a wave of exciting sensations washed over her.

“I swear, I don’t know what it is about the way you smell….”

Her eyelids fluttered shut. Lord help her, they hadn’t even kissed, but she wanted to get naked with this man.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Lecia opened her eyes. Anthony’s gaze was filled with heat and longing—everything she was feeling.

Then, tangling his fingers in her hair, Anthony pulled her head down and kissed her.

The kiss went on. And on.

And on.

Anthony nibbled, sucked. His tongue delved.

Lecia opened her mouth to receive more of him. Her tongue mingled with his, hot and desperate.

Only when she physically needed to take a breath to save her life did she tear her lips from his.

“Wow,” he said.

A simple word, but it packed a lot of punch. No one had ever said “Wow” after kissing her.

“Those lips…I knew they’d be sweet.”

Lecia bent a leg at the knee, swaying it a little as she gazed into his eyes. “You just kissed me.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

A beat passed. “Why?”

“Because you had a neon sign over your head flashing ‘Kiss me.’”

Lecia buried her face in his wonderfully strong chest and laughed. Laughed because his words were probably true.

“I guess I want to feel…”

“Me?” she supplied.

He chuckled, low and throaty. “That, too.” His finger tickled her thigh. “But I was going to say ‘normal.’”

“Oh?”

“Like we met under different circumstances. I picked you up at a bar—”

“A bar?”

“Okay, you picked me up at…at a sex therapists’ convention. You were looking for new patients.”

“I don’t sleep with my patients.”

“You make an exception for me.” Looking very much like he wanted to kiss her again, he added, “That’s how we end up here. At least, that’s what I’d like to pretend. Rather than face the truth that I’m on a wild goose chase to find a wife who doesn’t want to be with me.”

His words sobered her. This was about Ginger. A rebound thing.

Then he trailed a hand under her skirt, to a spot on her butt that a sensible panty would have covered, and she was suddenly losing her head again.

“Oooh.” Lecia blew out a slow breath against Anthony’s shoulder.

“Oooh good or oooh bad?”

“Oooh maybe I should get up now.”

She squirmed a little, and he released her. Although she didn’t want to, she pushed herself off him. Once on her feet, she adjusted her clothes.

Anthony stared at her but didn’t say anything. Still, his gaze made her uneasy. His eyes said he wanted her naked body writhing beneath him, and Lecia had to admit she wanted that, too.

“Um,” she began, remembering the bag, “what’s the surprise?”

Anthony’s eyes lit up, and Lecia’s heart rate quadrupled. “A book on tape.
Murder on the Orient Express.
”

“You’re kidding! You found it at Wal-Mart?”

“No. There was a little used bookstore on the way there.” Anthony stood. “Ready for some food?”

Oh, she was ready for some food, all right. Just not the kind he was referring to.

They gathered up their belongings and went outside. Minutes later Anthony was maneuvering the Navigator out of the parking lot, and Lecia sat back, inhaling slow, calming breaths. But instead of helping, her body temperature continued to rise. She wasn’t sure she could stay this close to Anthony for another thirteen or so hours without completely losing her mind.

Or jumping his bones.

With this skirt and this thong, it would be so easy to slide onto his lap…

Lord help her, they needed to get to New Orleans as quickly as possible.

“You know,” Lecia said. “I was thinking.”

He faced her. “Thinking what?”

“That we should head back to El Paso and catch a flight to New Orleans.”

“Lecia—”

“No, hear me out. There’s heavy rain in east Texas, but that’s not the main consideration. If the police were looking for you, I think we’d know by now. But we saw nothing on the local news. Nothing on CNN.”

“Yeah, but we’ve already come all this way.”

“Which means we have that much farther to drive back.
Even if I don’t go into the office tomorrow, I’ll need to be back in good form on Monday morning.”

“It’s only Thursday.”

“Yeah, but we won’t be able to look for Ginger until tomorrow if we get in late tonight. Another reason to consider flying.”

Anthony bit down on his bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t only consider yourself in this.”

“I know that.” He paused. “I guess I’d feel better if I checked my voice mail first. If I’m in some kind of trouble for taking off, my lawyer will have left me a message.”

Anthony picked up his phone, which was between them, on the console. He’d pushed the speed limit and made pretty good time getting to El Paso, but knew it would be a long drive ahead. If it were only him, he wouldn’t worry about it. But he had to be fair to Lecia.

He punched in the code to check his messages. The automated voice told him that he had five new ones.

He had planned to listen to them all—until he heard the first one. He disconnected, then slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “No, not this.”

“Oh, my God,” Lecia said in a horrified whisper. “It’s Ginger, isn’t it? They’ve found her. She’s dead.”

Ever since he was a young boy, Pavel had dreamed of coming to America. Every movie, every television show, reinforced his belief that it was a land of opportunity. In America, he knew he would not have to struggle to survive as he had struggled every day in Russia.

Since his move here six years ago, he had learned that he was right. There were many jobs to do in this country, many ways to make a buck. There was the fast way and the slow way.

He had chosen the fast way. Why work your way to the top when you could start there? Control your own destiny? There were more risks this way, of course, but greater reward.

And, unfortunately, greater headaches.

Ginger was giving him a very bad headache. If she wasn’t dead, then surely he would have to kill her.

Pavel sipped ice water through a straw as he walked across the hotel’s carpeted floor. News reports were saying that she was missing under suspicious circumstances. It was possible. But it was also possible that this was a trick. The little bitch liked to play games.

He had come to L.A. only to get his money, and he was already staying longer than he’d planned. But he liked this place. There was always sunshine, and the women were beautiful. Maybe he would stay. After all, there were many girls who came here to become stars. He could find many women here for his side business—porno films.

He would decide that later—after he found Ginger. So far, he could not reach her by phone. He had left her many messages, but she was not calling back.

He considered himself a patient man, an understanding one, even, but even he had his limits. Ginger was fast pushing him to his.

Strolling back across the room, he sat on the bed. The whore he had picked up last night was still sleeping. I will miss screwing Ginger, he thought, sighing softly. But he would enjoy his $1.2 million more.

Pulling open the drawer, he fingered his gun. The serial number on the nine-millimeter had been destroyed. Even if it could be traced, it would never be traced back to him.

Ginger was beautiful. He didn’t want to hurt her. But he would.

Using his cell phone, he called her again. When he got her voice mail, he said, “Ginger, Ginger. Why you won’t call me back? Surely you know you cannot hide from me.” He paused, carefully considering his next words. “I like you, Ginger. You know that. That’s why I gave you—what you say—some slack. But now, I wonder are you trying to put the wool over my face? I am running out of patience.”

He closed the drawer and climbed back into bed with his whore, but his thoughts were still on Ginger.

Lecia held her breath as she looked at Anthony. They’d driven all this way, only for this news.

“No,” Anthony replied, shaking his head. “It’s not Ginger. It’s the kid I’m a Big Brother to.”

Relief washed over her in waves. “That’s right. You’re a Big Brother. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. Donovan’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I’m not sure. But he sounded pretty upset in the message he left. I’m gonna have to call him.”

“Of course.”

Anthony turned into a McDonald’s lot and parked the car. Then he dialed Donovan’s home number.

“Hey, Little D,” he said when the kid answered the phone. “What’s up, man?”

“T?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?”

“It’s my mama. She got arrested last night.”

“Arrested? Why?”

“I dunno. She was probably sellin’ again, even though she promised me she wouldn’t. I was almost home when I saw the cops draggin’ her outta the house. I didn’t want ’em to
take me away, so I hid in the bushes. I thought she’d be back by now, but she’s not.”

Damn. Donovan didn’t need this. His mother had already spent time behind bars for a narcotics offense. When was she going to learn? She had two kids who needed her: Donovan’s older brother, who had already taken to the streets, and Donovan. Anthony was hoping to make a difference in his life, to save him from the life his brother had chosen.

“You’ve been home alone, Little D?”

“Yeah.” His voice trembled.

“Okay, I know you’re scared, but it’s gonna be okay. You said you have a cousin in Long Beach?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you called her?”

“No.”

“You have to call her.”

“I dunno—”

“You’ve got no other choice. Can you get to her place?”

“I ain’t got no money.”

Anthony thrummed his fingers on his leg. “I’ll get some to you. As long as you promise to go to your cousin’s.”

“She doesn’t want me there. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Anthony assured him. Though the sad truth was, he couldn’t say that for sure. Donovan Wright was an eleven-year-old with a hard edge because of the circumstances of his life. He’d been raised practically with no discipline, something Anthony had realized when he first met him at a fund-raiser for an inner city kids day camp program. Kids like him could be hard enough for their parents to handle, much less an extended member of the family.

“Listen, if you want me to call her for you, I will.”

“I want you, T. Where are you?”

“I’d be there for you if I could, but I’m on the road, taking care of some business. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“I’m scared,” Donovan said.

Those two words broke Anthony’s heart. More than ever, he wished he were back in L.A. so he could head to Donovan’s place and be there for him. The kid didn’t have a father, and Anthony had vowed to be the man to look out for him. But there was no way he could do that now.

“Little D, can you get to the youth center?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go there. I’m gonna call someone to pick you up once you get there. Kahari Brown. You met him once at the center, remember?”

“’Course I remember.”

“Good. Kahari will come get you and take you to your cousin’s place. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hang tight till then, Little D.”

“Okay,” he said again.

When Anthony hung up, Lecia asked, “Problems?”

“Yeah. The kid’s mother’s gotten herself arrested. Damn, I wish I was back in L.A.”

“If you want to head back—”

“It won’t help. Donovan needs me now.”

“Kahari’s going to meet him?”

“He’ll have to.”

Anthony punched in another number, and Lecia knew he was calling his friend. When Kahari picked up, he filled him in on what was happening.

“Is everything going to work out?” Lecia asked when he hung up.

“Yeah. Kahari’ll take care of it.”

“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”

“He is.” Anthony started the car. “You wanna go through the drive-through or go inside?”

“Whatever you want.”

Anthony drove the car around to the drive-through entrance and inched it forward behind two others in line for the pickup window. They were about to have breakfast together, and Lecia hoped it would be a pleasant experience, but given the firm set of Anthony’s jaw, he was clearly still upset about his conversation with Donovan.

“Try not to worry about Donovan,” Lecia said. “I’m sure that’s not easy, but you’ve got Kahari—”

“Try not to worry?”

His incredulous tone surprised her. “I’m just saying, we’re already out here. You’ve done all you can. I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Doc? Because from where I sit, it seems like
nothing
is okay.”

Lecia turned away from him. She’d been trying to help, but for her effort she’d practically been slapped in the face.

“I can’t deal with this,” Anthony went on. “I don’t recognize my life anymore. I need to be in L.A., not out on the road in the middle of nowhere. I need Ginger to forgive me and get over this whole mess so I can get on with my life.”

Lecia nodded solemnly. “I see.” More than she wanted to. Much to her surprise, it hurt her to hear Anthony say that he wanted to save his marriage after admitting he believed his wife no longer wanted to be with him.

But why should it hurt her? He wasn’t her man. And the kiss…Well, that kiss had been meaningless.

At least to him.

“I guess you’re right,” Anthony said after a moment. “We’d better fly. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He drove up to the pickup window, settled the bill, and accepted the order. Lecia dug into her egg sandwich, but she was no longer hungry.