Playing for Keeps (17 page)

“Sure, it has.” Quentin smiled at Malik's stubbornness to admit he needed anyone. “Listen, Malik, you're like a brother to me and I'm sorry if I disappointed you, but I had to do the right thing.”

“You mean what was best for your career?”

“Can you blame me?” Quentin finally asked the question that had been lodged in his throat for a long time. “You know as well as I do what it's like to do without. Can you blame me for not wanting to trash my career?”

Malik exhaled. “No, of course not.” Why did Quentin have to be so logical? “I was just really counting on your help, Quentin.”

“I know that, Malik, and I feel terrible. What can I do?” Quentin placed his hands on either side of Malik's desk and affixed his eyes on his best friend.

“Well…” Malik thought about it. “Can't you tell both sides of the story? You know, showcase the community center and Richard King? Readers would be able to see the consequences of his big development deals.”

Quentin thought about Malik's suggestion. He'd taken some great photographs of the center. What better way to highlight their struggle than to show the services they offered the community? Quentin's mouth broke into a smile. “I think that's a great idea. I'm not sure how my agent or
Capitalist
's editor is going to feel about it. But I can at least present the photos and give them the option.”

“You would do that?” Malik asked, hopeful for the first time in months.

“Of course I would,” Quentin returned. “I'll do anything I can to bridge this gap, so we can be friends again.”

“Awww, Q.” Malik couldn't resist Quentin's sensitive side and came forward to give him a long-overdue hug. “Are you going soft on me, man?”

“Not a chance.” Quentin patted Malik's back and stepped away. “But I am happy to have you back in my life.”

“So am I, so am I,” Malik said.

 

“I don't like it,” Jason told Quentin when he stopped by his office the following day. Quentin had brought the portfolio with shots of Richard in his office, at one of his construction sites in a hard hat, one of him at the awards dinner and various others all juxtaposed against a photo of him pointing to the community center and the subsequent shots of the clinic, the dancers and the boys playing basketball.

“I don't agree,” Quentin replied. “Those pictures make a pretty powerful statement.”

“Exactly my point,” Jason said haughtily. He hated to disagree with one of his best clients, but he had a duty to do what was in his best interests, whether Quentin liked it or not. “They're negatively depicting King and that's not what you were hired to do.”

“I'm delivering what they hired me for,” Quentin returned. “There are always two sides to every story and I'm showing both.”

“
Capitalist
wants to highlight Richard King's achievements, not show what a ruthless businessman he is. I think it's a bad idea.”

“Well, I'm not asking your approval. Out of professional courtesy, I came to tell you what I was planning to do. I plan on delivering both sets of pictures.”

“Despite my
professional
advice.”

Quentin shrugged. He was not backing down. This was important to his friendship with Malik and, heck, that center was important to him. Sometimes in life you had to make a stand and this was one of those moments.

“This is career suicide, Quentin. You're at the top of your game. Why would you purposely sabotage yourself? Once word gets around that you're a prima donna and can't take direction, you'll be finished. Is that what you want, to end up back on the street, hustling? Because that's exactly where I found you.” Jason's words were harsh, but they needed to be said. When Quentin didn't respond, Jason said, “Fine, have it your way, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

Jason's ominous words stayed with Quentin throughout the course of the evening. Even when he and Avery stepped out for dinner, he couldn't shake the feeling.

“Is everything all right?” Avery asked. “You haven't been yourself tonight.” She'd watched him push the food back and forth on his plate, hardly eating a bite. And Quentin loved to eat, though you could hardly tell because he kept himself in shape at the gym or with the weight machines he had in his loft. His body was lithe and trim, and gave her immense pleasure. She smiled at the thought.

“No, I had a disagreement with my agent today.”

“Oh?” Avery became uneasy and fidgeted in her seat. She sure hoped Quentin wasn't jumping ship and flying off to God knows where. Wasn't that what photojournalists did? Risk their lives, all in search of the great Pulitzer Prize.

“Yeah, I told him that I had a different angle on the photo exposé on Richard King.”

Avery's ears perked up. Now she was really curious. He was talking about her biological father after all, a fact she hadn't yet shared with him. “How different?” she asked cautiously, taking a sip of her wine.

“Well, I've decided to send the magazine the photos of Richard, but also some of the center. I'm hoping they'll see the story potential on this. You know, here's Richard King, a powerful businessman who's destroying a community all in the name of the all-mighty dollar.”

“Quentin, how can you say that? I thought you liked Richard.”

“Just because I think that overall he's an all right guy doesn't mean that I'm going to agree with everything he does. Especially when it comes to tearing down a place that's near and dear to my heart,” Quentin responded. “And why is it you're defending the man? Since when did you become his biggest champion?”

“Since he came to the gallery and bought several paintings,” Avery returned.

“Oh please, that was nothing but a drop in the bucket to him.” Quentin didn't believe King's motives were altogether altruistic. He was probably just trying to impress Avery.

“Thanks a lot,” she replied. Quentin made it sound as if her knowledge of great artwork had nothing to do with it.

She rose from her chair, so quickly it nearly fell back. Quentin had to catch it before it crashed to the floor.

“I'm going to go powder my nose.” Avery threw him a glare over her shoulder as she stormed to the ladies' room to calm her frayed nerves. Once inside, she covered her mouth with her hand. Why had she reacted like that? Because Quentin wanted to prosecute Richard in the media. Not that she could blame him. He had no idea who he was or what he meant to her because she hadn't told him.

She'd kept the secret to herself not so much to protect King but to protect herself and her parents. She and her mother were finally back on track and this would derail them. Not to mention the embarrassing scandal. But what should she do now? Even though she owed Richard King nothing, she couldn't knowingly let Quentin publish those photos. Could she?

When she returned to the table, Quentin came around to help her to her seat. “Listen—” he scooted the chair underneath her “—I'm sorry if what I said offended you. I in no way wanted to imply that Richard wouldn't recognize what a great artistic eye you have. Because you are extremely talented, Avery. And I don't even know if I've ever told you that before, but you are. I think you're amazing. No, make that incredible.” Quentin smiled nervously at her. He didn't want Avery to be upset with him; she meant a great deal to him.

“Thank you,” she replied. That was exactly what she needed to hear. “I think you're pretty incredible, too.”

“Then, let's get out of here.” Quentin threw a hundred-dollar bill down on the table to take care of the tab.

Once back at Avery's apartment, he undressed and peeled off each layer of her clothing like an onion, leaving her without a stitch on and lying naked on the bed. Quentin wanted to savor every inch of her, the way she was meant to be savored. His blood ran hot and heavy through his veins as he slipped under the cool sheets and took her in his arms. He drew her mouth to his. “Are you ready to be naughty?”

Avery answered by inching over to the middle of the bed, giving him plenty of access to have his way with her.

That was all the encouragement Quentin needed. He lazily circled over each nipple with his hot, urgent tongue. Then his lips began moving lower to her belly button where his tongue played havoc with her senses. His tongue trailed a path down the soft inner part of her thighs before moving farther south. When he lowered his head and his tongue teased her core, white-hot darts of desire flickered through Avery, causing her whole body to soar.

“Oh, yes.” Her groans were deep and guttural as Quentin took her on a sensual journey.

He quickly put on the protection he'd purchased earlier and sucked in a sharp breath as he entered her. Avery's tight haven stretched to accommodate him, allowing him to push farther inside. When she wrapped her legs around him, he thrust harder and faster, going deeper until he brought them to the brink. A cry of pleasure escaped Avery's lips when she came and a shudder tore right through Quentin as they both tumbled over the edge together.

Quentin shifted his weight to his side and turned to face her. Avery was looking back at him, but this time instead of passion or satisfaction, fear was in her eyes. “What's wrong, baby?” He didn't like the look he saw in her eyes.

“Quentin, I really need to talk to you,” she finally said. It was time she told Quentin about her connection to Richard King. The fact that they'd just shared another soul-stirring lovemaking session had Avery feeling extremely guilty. How could she continue to lie to the man she loved?

“Hmmm, what's going on?” He nuzzled her neck with the tip of his nose.

“It's about Richard King.”

“Not again,” he sighed, lifting his head and sitting upright. “What is it about this man, Avery, that has you so enraptured?”

“Quentin, there's a lot you don't know.”

“So why don't you fill me in?” he asked harshly. “Because I'm getting sick and tired of your interest in this man.”

“Well…” Avery rose to a seated position and pulled the sheet over her naked form. “Quentin, you see…”

“Whatever it is, just spit it out.”

“When I was in Buffalo, Leah told me the identity of my birth father.”

“She did?” Quentin was shocked. Before he could ask another question, he realized that Avery had kept this information to herself. “Why didn't you tell me when you got back?” The more he thought about it, the angrier he got; she'd had plenty of time to tell him the truth.

“Because I was grappling with her rejection,” Avery answered. “I decided that maybe I didn't want to know and that my family didn't need the scandal.”

“And then what happened?”

“And then I met him!”

“And now it suddenly matters?” Quentin's brow creased. “Why?”

“Because my biological father is Richard King.”

“Richard King!”

“You heard right,” Avery replied to Quentin's shocked expression.

“Wow!” Quentin fell back against the pillows and digested the information. He sure hadn't seen that one coming.

Avery turned to him. “Imagine how I felt when I learned the news. It was pretty amazing that my boyfriend just so happens to be doing an exposé on Richard King.”

Quentin mulled the information over in his head. “Well, this certainly explains your fascination.”

“I had no intention of telling Richard or anyone the truth,” Avery replied. “I was going to take it to my grave.”

“Why?”

“Because he never wanted me to begin with, because he was already engaged to Cindy even though he was having an affair with Leah. He asked Leah to get rid of me, but she couldn't.”

“So she gave you up instead?”

“And after her reaction—” Avery clutched her chest “—I just couldn't take another rejection, Quentin. My heart can't handle it.”

“So why bring him up now?” Quentin didn't understand. “If you have no intention of telling him, why tell me?” She could have kept the secret forever and he would have been none the wiser.

“Well…” Avery didn't know how to begin. Although Richard King was no father to her and had no idea who she was, she still didn't want to see him hurt.

Avery's silence made Quentin think long and hard, and that was when it hit him—Avery wanted him to nix his idea of running the photos of the community center. Quentin fixed his dark eyes on her. “You don't want me to send those photos in of the community center, do you?”

Avery was afraid to look at Quentin because she'd felt a distinct chill enter the air.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his fury starting to rise. How could she ask him to go against Malik again when she knew how desperately he wanted to repair their relationship? And for Richard King, of all people? He wasn't worthy of her protection; he was a big boy and could take care of himself. The community center could not.