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She smoothed her hands over his body and brought them together around his throbbing arousal. The only sexual pleasure he had known came from his hands, but hers felt so much better. Just when he thought he would pass out, she had slid down his body and placed her mouth over his engorged flesh. He had replayed that moment many times and still could not determine if he had fainted.

She had drawn him into her mouth with incredible suction. Feeling his meat press against her throat had changed the meaning of sex forever. While he fought to slow his release she sucked him into another universe. He exploded seconds later. Remembering that his friends told him only white girls would agree to oral sex, he smiled and hoped that before the evening was over, he would put a few other myths to rest.

When he was fully conscious, he drew her to him. “I never thought it could be that great.”

“If you enjoyed it that much while scared half to death, think of how you’ll feel once you relax.” She lay flat on her back, splayed her legs across the sheet and cooed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it because it’s my time now. Just go on instinct and I’ll tell you if you’re not doing it right. Ready when you are.”

Lying next to her, it was only seconds before he was ready and raring to go. She

teased and flattered until he was hotter than before, and then pulled him on top of her and drew him into the center of a cyclone.

True to her word, Frankie showed him how to make it happen. They continued their

secret pleasure excursions until she went away to college and he cried in his room.

He had memorized Frankie’s college schedule and was always available during her trips home. His life had changed tremendously, but she was still the log that lit his fire. Playing football had been his big dream for as long as he could remember. With it came more female adoration than he could have ever imagined.

Frankie’s experiences had expanded as well. They shared stories and she always

reminded him that no one could make her feel the way he did. Inflated though it was, his ego needed her affirmation. They had continued making it happen for each other until her college graduation.

Isaac spent the time from New Year’s until May contemplating his next move. It had been the toughest decision of his life. Comparing Frankie to other women had been a waste of time. She was second to none. He had finally decided he could not afford to let this chance slip away. He had volunteered to drive Frankie’s mother and his mother to New Orleans for the graduation ceremony. His plan had been to use the money he had been saving for six months to celebrate.

He had rented a room, bought roses, sent Frankie in the liquor store for champagne. The stage was set. He had been prepared to tell her how he really felt. After all, they were only

“country cousins.” Their mothers had been best friends since childhood, but were not blood relatives. Isaac loved Aunt Corolla, and thought she would be happy to know that he was the man in her daughter’s life.

This time it was not sex. He made love to the only woman he wanted. He slowly

pleasured her the way he had done before, but with the tenderness of a man in love. After the second round, she had sprawled, spent and flaccid against his body. He had known it was the perfect time to tell her what having her in his life had meant, but she spoke first.

“I have something to tell you.”

She batted her big, brown eyes, stood and swayed her ample hips across the room for her purse. When she turned around and held out her left hand, minutes had lapsed before he realized the ring on her finger meant he had lost her.

“I’m getting married. Since you’re the only man in my life, I’d like you to walk me down the aisle.”

Both mothers had thought it sweet that he cried “real tears” when that horrible day arrived. He had walked as slow as he could down the aisle until Frankie had tugged his arm. The false smile plastered on his face had cracked when she joined the man he had come to hate.

When she walked out of the church on her new husband’s arm, a large portion his heart went with her.

No one ever knew how he felt about Frankie or how much it had hurt. Over the years, he had made several attempts to tell her, but she was married and appeared happy. Her husband was older, established and could offer her the things she deserved.

His pain had returned when he signed his first NFL contract. He had wanted Frankie there next to him, but she was had become a mother by then. Her life was full.. The wounds slowly healed. There was no remorse. He was still happy for Frankie, and glad she had been there to teach him things that many older men didn’t know about making a woman feel good.

She had taught him what women want and how to get what he wanted while making his partner think it was her idea. He now had plenty of practice and knew he was damn good.

He felt abundantly lucky. At six-feet-six-inches tall with muscles galore, he had never felt he had to prove his masculinity. He wooed women with sweetness and smooth charm. He surprised them by speaking in soft whispers and remaining cool regardless of what they threw his way. With the good looks he inherited from his mother, and his father’s build, he used everything Frankie had taught him to see just how many women he could mesmerize.

In his mind, Frankie had defined women. The pain she had caused him forever defined his behavior. His mother still kept him grounded. A first round draft choice in the NFL and a stellar career had made him more humble. Beautiful women were the frosting on the cake.

He loved to pamper as well as pleasure his dates. He refined his cooking skills and began most romantic evenings with dinner and ended the date with breakfast in bed. He had practiced the routine over and over. Women loved it.

The pain of losing Frankie sometimes surfaced when he was lonely. Their conversations were rare, but he continued thanking her for the man he had become. “Most women can’t believe I cook.” He chucked when they met at his mother’s house on Christmas. “I have them eating out my hand. Literally.”

His status as a celebrity added to the list of females of all ages, sizes, and ethnicities who begged for what he had to offer. He gave it freely, with only one stipulation. He would never fall in love again.

When he first met Chelsea, he could not wait to prepare a gourmet meal and display the sensitive emotions that women seemed to love. Now, lying on her bed and watching her dress for work, he realized just how much it would hurt if he lost her.

He had watched the arrogance of another man as he made his move. Whether Chelsea

knew it or not, he understood what Quincy Beckham saw when he looked at the tall, slinky beauty with breasts that spilled over just about everything she wore. Quincy was competition and Isaac felt the playing field was slanted in opponent’s direction.

He knew the main thing keeping Chelsea in his life was that she had a life of her own.

She didn’t call and whine when he was away, or try and steal all of his time when he was in town. At least that’s what he had told himself. Now he was facing the fact that he missed her terribly when he was away and couldn’t get enough of her when he was in town.

Pulling up to watch her from the bedroom, he knew that she meant much more to him

than Frankie had, and probably more than anyone in his future ever would. In addition to the threat of Quincy Beckham, some raving lunatic had her in his sights. For the first time in his life, Isaac was terrified.

* * * *

Knowing most members of the DA’s staff had been threatened or harassed left Chelsea unprepared for the chaos that awaited her at the office. An early morning meeting had been called to alert everyone who hadn’t already heard. Chelsea was assured that every precaution would be taken to insure her safety. After the initial shock of it all sunk in, she joked that maybe their fear was that her alleged assailant might miss her and get one of them.

She tried to ignore the attention, but David poked his head in the office door every ten minutes and she felt that every eye in the building was on her. Instead of feeling protected, she was foaming mad. The match that lit the flame was an offer to remove her from the case.

“Hell no!” Her resounding declaration brought a round of applause from some of her colleagues and restored some feelings of control. Her confidence began to wane as the clock ticked away the morning. She took a phone call, heard Quincy’s voice and felt her resolve slip away. By noon, she had become a quivering mass of confusion.

The feelings she could not express to her colleagues came pouring out at lunch. “I answered my phone and there was that sweet baritone expressing his concern. I don’t know what he wants, Dee.” She met Dee at Mama Rose’s, departed from her usual abstinence during workdays and sipped a glass of red wine.

“Quincy Beckham? What did he say?”

“He started out with ‘you’re some cool lady. Seeing you so fetchingly calm last night, no one would have guessed you had been victimized the night before. I’m more fascinated than before, but I am so sorry for your troubles.’ I listened for as long as I could and then broke down.”

Dee spilled tea on the table and stared in disbelief. “You cried?”

“No. I became raging mad. I questioned his sudden interest in someone he just met, someone who was obviously in a relationship. He started talking about never have been so suddenly and deeply attracted to anyone before, and not knowing exactly how to react. I didn’t buy it. I may have been swayed by his words at first, but I’m nobody’s fool. Right now, he’s the enemy. It’s possible that he had something to do with that intruder. I’m now as aware of that as I am that his actions last night were intentionally disrespectful, especially to Isaac.”

“I was about to say that Isaac should have pounded his ass into the floor, but luscious lover is damn near as big as Isaac. You know, I might be wrong, but something about Quincy seems awfully familiar. It bothered me so much I went through our junior and senior high yearbooks looking for his likeness. I don’t remember a Quincy, except Quincy Peete, but I could swear I’ve met this dude before.”

“He’s not Quincy Peete, that’s for sure. I remember him. Fair skinned, lots of freckles and glasses so thick they magnified from the other side and made his eyes look enormous.”

“No, he’s not Quincy Peete because Quincy Peete died about two years ago.”

“You’re kidding. I don’t remember that. How did he die?”

Dee pursed her lips and stifled a grin. “I’m not saying because you would make me

laugh. I don’t want God to strike me dead for making fun of that boy’s bad eyesight. To change the subject, Isaac sure seems protective lately. I think your casual lover is swimming in the deep end of the pool.”

The thought had occurred to her, especially after he whispered the words. She wanted to think their relationship had long passed casual, but Isaac’s earlier declaration always dashed her hopes. “I’m not ready for marriage,” he had said. “I want a comfortable relationship that doesn’t include love.”

“Are you thinking he’s in love with me?” she asked Dee.

“Unless Skip and I are seeing things that aren’t there, I believe he is.”

“Skip thinks so too?”

“He does after yesterday. They talked after you got in last night. Isaac never admitted being in love, but Skip says he’s almost sure he is. I think so, too.”

She did not discount Dee’s assessment, but for a womanizer like Skip to see

permanence in her relationship with Isaac made her wonder. She wrapped her untouched sandwich and left. There was a pressing issue that had nothing to do with her cases. She had to find out why her grandmother was being pressured and she had to do it before the end of the day.

She walked across the hot concrete and through the glass doors at City Hall. Since she knew practically everyone there, she greeted each of them with a smile, but did not tarry for conversation. After two sharp raps on the door, she entered Councilman Larry Mayeaux’s office and perched on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Constantine,” he spoke without looking up. “Only a grave

annoyance would bring you down here in the heat of the day, so make yourself comfortable and tell me who or what has pissed you off.”

“I want to know why the board of health is leaning on Mama Rose.” There was no

anger, but lots of insistence in her voice. “Is someone trying to get her property?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked directly into her eyes.

“Was she cited for something?”

“She wasn’t cited because they couldn’t find anything, but they sure as hell tried, and on more than one occasion. I know you have a finger on the pulse of everything that happens in New Orleans, so tell me what gives.”

He walked around the desk and reached for her hand. “Do you honestly think I

would sit idly by while someone tries to destroy your grandmother’s business? Mama Rose is prominent in this city and certainly in my heart. Mess with her and you’ll have half the city ready to kick your butt—that is if there’s any butt left when Mama Rose is through with them. I’ll check into it and let you know.”

She accepted his hug but quickly stood back and looked into his eyes. “I want to

check into it with you.”

“Fine. I can’t do it now. I’m expecting one of those distinguished visitors. Let’s check on it first thing tomorrow. Meet me here at nine.”

She noted a change in his appearance that was not present when he left the district attorney’s office. The parenthesis around his mouth was now heavily pronounced. His famous Hitler mustache was littered with gray, and so was the black mane that was combed away from his forehead.

“Tell Mama Rose we’ll find out who is causing her problems. We’ll search

together. If I find the entry point when you’re not around, I’ll take you in with me.” His gray eyes darted across her face. “And lighten up, for God’s sake. I remember telling your father if you had been born sooner, I’m sure we’d have mug shots of you with a raised fist. Militant Mama. We need to ease into this, not blast our way in.”

Her face filled with frowns. “Was I that much of a brat?”