Gimme an O! (9 page)

“I’ll let the lady decide.”

“Caribbean or Mediterranean?” Lecia looked at both Kahari and Anthony. “I don’t get it.”

“Music,” Kahari explained.

“Oh.”

“I like to call my backyard my home away from home.” Kahari strolled to a wall between two floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the impressive backyard. Pressing the heel of his hand on one section, the marble popped open. It was a secret compartment, and within it was a compact stereo. “With
the touch of a button I can have whatever music I’d like in the backyard. So, what do you feel like?”

“Caribbean,” Lecia told him, shrugging.

Moments later the upbeat sounds of instrumental reggae came to life. The sound was so crisp and clear, Lecia could easily picture a steel band outside playing on the deck.

“And could you grab a sandwich for Lecia?” Anthony asked. “She hasn’t had any lunch.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem,” Kahari told her. “Turkey okay?”

She did need to eat something, and she realized she probably wouldn’t have time to go somewhere else for food. “Turkey’s fine, thanks. Mustard, no mayo.”

“Coming right up.”

As Kahari headed toward the fridge, Anthony opened the sliding patio door and extended a hand, motioning for Lecia to pass him.

She paused briefly, then walked over the threshold and into the backyard. As she scanned the vast property, she realized the word “backyard” was hardly adequate. The pool was as large as some hotel pools, and besides the lounge chairs, there was a tiki bar and an area with at least five round tables and umbrellas. Behind that, a massive deck boasted two barbecues and a giant-size hot tub.

This
was
an entertainment complex. The only thing missing was the attractive bartender tossing bottles into the air and catching them before pouring shots of liquor into huge glasses.

Instead, Anthony made his way behind the bar. “I make a mean chocolate banana drink, which you can have with banana liqueur or without any alcohol. Or perhaps you would prefer a banana daiquiri?”

Just thirty minutes ago she had been planning on a large coffee with milk and sugar, and now she had a host of exotic drinks to choose from. This was entirely too surreal.

“I’d be happy with coffee.”

“I can make a coffee smoothie.”

“Whatever’s got caffeine.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Lecia made her way to one of the tables with the straw umbrellas. No sooner had she sat than Kahari appeared. “Oh, my,” Lecia said. “This is huge.” The turkey sandwich was on thick whole wheat bread, bursting with lettuce and tomatoes. “You didn’t have to go to this trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

Maybe this place was the equivalent of the playboy mansion, but for women. Because here she had two men serving her.

A girl could get used to this, she thought, a wicked image of barely clad men hanging around the place making her chuckle to herself.

“Enjoy,” Kahari said simply. Then he quietly walked away and back into the house, leaving Lecia alone outside with Anthony.

Her fantasy died as a warning bell sounded in her brain.

I can’t be alone with this man.

As she watched Anthony pour the blended drink into a large, curvy glass, she pushed her chair back and stood.

This was bad. Very bad.

She had to get out of here.

Anthony saw Lecia practically jump out of her chair, and wondered what the heck was going on. He stared at her until she met his eyes. Either some bug had spooked her, or…or she was planning on taking off. Damn, she couldn’t do that before he talked to her.

“Going somewhere?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Um…uh, Kahari’s leaving?” Lecia asked.

“Yeah.” Anthony came around the bar holding the coffee smoothie and a vodka tonic. “He’s giving us privacy.”

At Lecia’s alarmed look, Anthony added, “We’re gonna talk, remember?”

“Is he married?”

“Kahari? Naw.” Anthony paused. “Why—you interested?”

“No. No, of course not. I’m just…making conversation. Since I’m…here.” She sat back down, looking glum.

Anthony could see that something had changed. She sounded on edge, but he decided not to ask her about it. He’d keep the conversation casual, and hopefully that would calm her. “Kahari was engaged, though,” he told her as he placed her drink before her. “It didn’t work out.”

“Let me guess—he found greener pastures?”

“Damn, girl. What do you think—all men are commitment-phobic players? His ex was the one who left him.”

Her nonchalant shrug made a blast of fury hit him in the face. He wanted to shake some sense into her, prove to her that not all men were dogs.

He wanted to kiss her.

No, no, no. He did
not
want to kiss her. Well, maybe he did—but only to make a point. The point that…that…

Screw the point. Instead, he reached for his own mixed drink and took a sip.

After a moment he said, “When you’re worth as much as Kahari is, you have to be careful whom you date. And believe it or not, Kahari’s looking for love. Not fling after fling with bimbo after bimbo.”

“I guess I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. How much did this place cost?”

“A little over twenty million.”

Lecia mouthed the figure, stunned at Kahari’s wealth. “Wow.”

“With his Nike endorsement, he’s worth over five times that much.”

“Now I feel stupid for not knowing who he is.”

“He’s a decent guy. I knew him before he ever dreamed of owning anything like this.”

“Oh?”

“We went to Notre Dame together, so it’s cool we’re playing together now. And I can tell you, no one deserves this success like Kahari does. He grew up in a really rough area of Fort Worth, and I’m glad he got a good break.”

Lecia wondered what kind of fool woman would have left a
guy like Kahari, considering so many gold diggers would have been more than happy to sink their claws into him.

“How’s the sandwich?”

“It’s really good. You can have half of it.” Lecia pushed the plate toward him, offering him the second half.

“Thanks.”

Lecia slipped out of her light blazer, and her silk camisole strained against her breasts. The bite of turkey sandwich got caught in Anthony’s throat. There was no doubt about it—the good doctor was hot. Her breasts were normal-sized, soft and feminine.

He was distracted by her mouth as she placed it around the straw and tasted the drink. This woman had some seriously sexy lips. He hadn’t noticed them on the
Tonight Show
because he had been more focused on getting his point across. The point that he was angry with her for meddling in his marriage. But now he wasn’t thinking about anger or anything that had to do with Ginger. How could he, when those lips looked so soft and sweet—

He stopped his ridiculous thoughts abruptly and took another sip of his vodka and tonic. “You like the drink?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she replied coolly. “It’s delicious.”

She said that with all the enthusiasm of a woman about to be beheaded. Anthony said, “Look, I know this is weird for you. I understand why you’re wary.”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“I do. And the first thing I want to do is offer you an apology about that night on Leno’s show. I lost my cool, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Apology accepted.”

Anthony blew out a deep breath, and Lecia knew he was
steeling himself for something else. She was wondering what the something else could be when he said, “My wife looks up to you. You’re her idol.”

“I’m sure you’re being much too kind.”

“You are, trust me. Which brings me to my issue. I don’t know what she said about me when the two of you talked, but I know your opinion of me had to be tainted because of the media story. I’m not holding that against you,” Anthony quickly went on when Lecia opened her mouth to speak. “I mean, it’s to be expected, right? My concern is my wife. I guess this whole situation has affected her more than I thought it would, because she’s done a total one eighty. Her attitude, her behavior. She’s not herself. She won’t even talk to me.”

“And you want me to give you some advice?” Lecia asked.

“You could give me all the advice in the world and I don’t think it would help. What I need you to do is talk to my wife.”

“Anthony—”

“Tony.”

“Whatever. I don’t see how talking to your wife—”

“Like I said, she idolizes you. If you tell her that before she rushes to divorce court, she ought to at least talk to me, I’m sure she’ll listen.”

“Surely you can tell her that yourself.”

“I’ve tried. She won’t give me the time of day. She never did, not from the moment the story broke about me supposedly propositioning a prostitute.”

“She must have her reasons.”

“Yeah—the fact that the media was making me out to be some type of freak. I ought to sue the people from the
Daily Blab
. They ran a supposed interview with the prostitute, and she told them all sorts of crap about what the two of us did together. Of course, she wouldn’t even give her name. No one
else has found this woman. I really doubt the
Daily Blab
found her, either. That story was a complete fabrication by a staff writer.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lecia said, surprising herself with how easily she was voicing her support of him. But everyone knew that the
Daily Blab’
s stories were sometimes so off the wall, there was no way they could be true. “I mean, they reported that the two of us were having a secret affair and you got angry with me on the
Tonight Show
because I pretended not to know you.”

“For real?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I didn’t see that one.” He blew out a ragged breath. “So now you know what I’m dealing with. What Ginger must be dealing with. She’s probably thinking that she married a freak, all based on this media bullshit. What I’m hoping is that you’ll call her—”

“Me?”

“I’ve just told you she won’t give me the time of day. That’s why I need you to call her on my behalf. Tell her that you’ve spoken with me, that I want to do couples counseling and you’ve agreed to be our therapist. I’m sure she’ll agree.”

“I’m a sex therapist.”

“I don’t think Ginger’s gonna care, not as long as we deal with you.”

“I understand your frustration, but I can’t get involved.”

Anthony paused, then said, “You owe me.”

“Oh? How do you figure that?”

“While I’m sorry for what happened between us with a national audience watching, I stand by what I said. It was your advice that made her decide to leave me.”

The way Lecia saw it, she had merely confirmed for the
woman what she wanted to do. But there was no point in telling Anthony that. She had a feeling he wouldn’t believe her.

Although based on the exterior package and his enormous success, it was hard to imagine any woman leaving the great Anthony Beals. It was just as hard to picture him propositioning a hooker when he could have any woman for free.

“Anthony—”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” she echoed, exasperated. “I…I can’t do this. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have time.”

“I need you to make the time.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’ll probably only take one session. If you simply tell her to give me a chance—”

“It’s not my place to tell her that.”

Anthony took another bite of the sandwich as he contemplated what to say next. He needed Dr. Love to do this. It was the only way to get through to Ginger.

Something made him lean forward and reach for both her hands. “I need you to make it your place. I’ve got a lot at stake here, most importantly, my marriage.”

Meeting his gaze, Lecia slowly ran her tongue along her upper lip. Anthony’s eyes narrowed. What was she doing? Coming onto him?

A flush rose to his cheeks—one that she would thankfully never see because of his complexion. He quickly released her hands. “Lecia—”

“Your mouth,” she said. “You’ve got mustard on your lips.”

Anthony stared at her for a good beat and a half before realizing what she was saying. He jerked backward and quickly grabbed a napkin.

So much for misreading intentions.

“Why don’t you call your wife and tell her exactly what you’ve told me?” Lecia said. “You sound sincere. And determined to work things out. I know you said you’ve already tried, but why not try again? Or better yet, go see her. Let her see for herself how sin—”

“I can’t get within one hundred feet of her.”

Lecia’s face dropped. “What are you saying?”

“It’s just temporary.”

“A restraining order?”

“Which won’t be an issue if she
agrees
to see me. So what do you say? Will you call her and arrange a session?”

Lecia suddenly had a vision of her two favorite newscasters broadcasting breaking news.
Today, in a bizarre series of events, overnight success Dr. Love was coerced into helping former football star Anthony Beals kill his wife….

“Lecia, what are you thinking?”

She got up. He didn’t want to know what she was thinking. “If you want to get your wife back, you’re gonna have to do it on your own.”

Anthony rose to meet her. “You won’t help me?”

“I want no part of this.” Lecia turned and headed back to the house.

“Lecia. Come on.”

“This is a very bad idea. Restraining order?” She spoke without turning. “I can’t get involved in this. God only knows what you really have planned for your wife.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lecia opened the sliding door and her low heels clicked against the kitchen floor. She would have continued on to the front door and out of this place except she remembered that she didn’t have her car here.

“It means…” The last thing she wanted to do was enrage this man without a means of escape. Even though he didn’t at all seem dangerous. But Ginger had painted him out to be practically psychopathic. The woman really had conveyed a lot about him in five minutes. “It means…”

“You’re afraid of me.”

“Of course not.” She laughed mirthlessly.

“Then why are you clutching your purse like that?”

“Um, where’s Kahari?”

“Forget Kahari.”

“He didn’t leave the house, did he? I want to thank him for the sandwich. It really was deli—”

Lecia stopped short, flinching when she felt Anthony’s hand on her arm. “See,” he said. “You
are
afraid of me. Damn.”

“No…I’m just…”
Don’t let him see your fear!
“…ready to leave.”

“I don’t believe you. And that hurts, Lecia, after I poured my heart out to you. But if you really think I’m some type of monster, at least have the guts to turn around, look me in the eye, and tell me so to my face.”