Twice the Temptation Page 4

  Women were not his playthings. They were not receptacles for his lust or frustration. They wanted more than a slam bam thank you ma’am. When he’d finally told his mother about the revolving door of women in and out of his life, her comeback had been he should think of them as his sister—did he want a man to treat her with a total disregard for her feelings? The analogy had been enough for him to stop his self-destructive behavior.

  Rolling down and buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, Rhett reached for the jacket to his suit and walked out of his office. He nodded in the direction of the man lounging on a leather chair in the waiting alcove outside his office.

  Tracy Powell peered over her half-glasses, a profusion of salt-and-pepper braids framing her smooth gold-brown face. She couldn’t understand why the rumpled-looking older man hadn’t taken a hint from his young nephew and put on something that didn’t look as if it had just come out of the washing machine.

  “Enjoy your lunch,” she called out to the two men.

  Rhett gave her a wink. “Thank you.”

  He walked with Eli Oakes to the elevator, taking it to the street level. Moments after stepping out into the bright sunlight, they exchanged a handshake. Eli wasn’t his uncle, but a private investigator. When he’d met Eli for the first time, Rhett thought of him as kind of a black Columbo. Eli even wore a wrinkled trench coat during cooler, rainy weather. The former police officer admitted to being forty-seven, a confirmed bachelor and a recovering alcoholic. Tall and gangly with smooth sable-brown skin, the man’s innocuous appearance was a foil for a sharp mind that noted details most people were likely to overlook.

  “Where do you want to eat?”

  Eli put on a pair of sunglasses, then ran a hand over his stubbly pate. “I had a big breakfast, so I don’t need anything too heavy.”

  Rhett rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “There’s a new restaurant on Massachusetts that features salads and wraps and vegetarian dishes. We can try it if you want.”

  Eli smiled. “Let’s try it.”

  “What do you have for me?” Rhett asked after he and Eli gave the waitress their orders.

  Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Eli pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “See for yourself.” He pushed it across the table.

  Rhett unfolded the page of type. His expression didn’t change as he read the information the investigator had come up with on Trey Chambers. “He’s a busy boy,” he murmured. “No wonder his business is in the toilet.”

  Eli picked up a glass of sweet tea, taking a long swallow. “What I didn’t include in that report is that Chambers spends a lot of time at the track.”

  Rhett digested this information as he counted the number of boards on which Trey Chambers either chaired or was a member. What surprised him was Eli’s claim that Trey had a gambling problem. When they were in college together he hadn’t remembered the business major gambling. Even when coeds were placing bets during March Madness, Trey hadn’t participated.

  “Is he winning or losing?”

  Eli shrugged his shoulders under his jacket. “Both. He made a bundle betting on the Derby and Preakness, but we’ll have to see what he does with the Belmont Stakes.”

  “Trey was never much of a gambler.”

  A sly smile parted the lips of the man whose decorated law enforcement career had ended after he’d been injured in a hit-and-run when he’d gone out early one morning to buy the newspaper. He’d lain in a coma for several months; when he’d emerged he submitted his retirement papers and went into private investigation. “Trey’s daddy is no longer collecting wives, but horses. That could explain Junior’s sudden interest in the ponies.”

  Rhett wanted to tell Eli that if the Chambers were winning at the track, they weren’t putting it back into their real estate business. Chambers Properties owned large parcels of land in Baltimore and D.C., and there was one tract not far from Baltimore Harbor that Chambers wanted. Rhett, also interested in the property, had submitted a bid.

  The waitress approached the table, setting down a plate with a tuna salad with sprouts on a bed of lettuce for Eli and a bowl of Caesar salad for Rhett.

  Over lunch, the topic of conversation changed to sports—baseball and the upcoming football season. The two men talked about trades and drafts, becoming more animated when they argued good-naturedly about teams they predicted would win the World Series and Super Bowl. Most of the lunch crowd had thinned out when Rhett paid the check and slid an envelope across the table.

  Eli picked up the envelope, peering into its contents. “What’s up with the cash?” Rhett usually gave him a check as payment for his services.

  “Think of it as a mid-year bonus.”

  Lines of consternation were etched into Eli’s forehead. “A bonus for what?”

  Rhett wanted to tell the man to take the money and stop asking so many questions, but he knew once a cop always a cop. He didn’t want Eli to think he was trying to set him up, which was why he always paid him with a check and at the end of the year issued a 1099 for his personal services.

  “It’s a little extra for reuniting me with my old girlfriend.”

  Eli’s expression brightened. “If that’s the case, then I’ll humbly accept your mid-year bonus.”

  Backing away from the table, the men walked out of the restaurant, going in opposite directions. Rhett walked back to where he’d parked his car. Instead of driving to the hotel, he headed in the opposite direction. A quarter of an hour later, he maneuvered into the parking lot across the street from New Visions Childcare.

  “How long will you be gone?” the attendant asked.

  “Less than half an hour,” Rhett said, handing the man the keys to his late-model Mercedes Benz sedan.

  Crossing the street, he opened the door to the one-story brick building and walked into a reception area. Recessed lighting illuminated the space with a warm glow while the calming green paint with an alphabet border added a festive touch. Rhett had also noticed several security cameras were positioned inside and outside the facility.

  A young woman sitting behind a glassed partition was on the phone arguing with someone who wanted to pick up a child, but didn’t have authorization. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins, but rules are rules. If you submit official documentation from the court, then we’ll be able to release your son to you. You have a good day, too.” She stuck out her tongue at the telephone console before realizing someone was watching her.

  Rhett smiled as she slid back the glass. “I’m here to see Ms. Denise Eaton.”

  The receptionist, who had long airbrushed nails, gave him a bored look. “Is she expecting you?”

  “No, she isn’t. Can you please let her know Garrett Fennell would like to see her?”

  “Ms. Eaton usually won’t see anyone without an appointment.”

  “I’m certain she’ll see me.” There was a ring of confidence in the statement.

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Garrett Fennell.”

  He stared at the woman’s long nails, which reminded him of talons, as she tapped the buttons of the telephone console, and spoke quietly into her headset. She pushed another button. “Please have a seat, Mr. Fennell. Ms. Eaton will be with you shortly.”

  Rhett sat on a decorative wrought-iron back bench and thumbed through a magazine from a stack on a low side table. He smiled at the picture of an infant staring back at him on the glossy cover. Flipping through the magazine, he found an article about coping with temper tantrums. Halfway through the article, the receptionist told him Ms. Eaton was now available to see him.

  He walked toward the door with a sign that said you had to see the receptionist before being buzzed in. He pushed open the door when the buzzer sounded, coming face-to-face with a very different Denise Eaton.

  Chapter 4

  When Denise left Rhett standing on the curb, she hadn’t expected to see him again until Saturday. Less than twenty-four hours later he had surprised her again.

  “Have
you come to renege on our deal?”

  Denise had spoken so softly Rhett had to strain to hear what she was saying. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want out?”

  “Did I say I wanted out?” Denise found it hard to breathe. She was standing in a hallway, less than two feet from Rhett Fennell, whose presence seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She lowered her gaze rather than let him see her lusting after him. And that was exactly what she’d fantasized about the night before. She’d gone to bed thinking of Rhett, which was enough to trigger an erotic dream. When she awoke, it was to a pounding heartbeat and a pulsing between her legs that left her wet and moaning in frustration.

  “Come to my office, and we’ll talk.”

  Denise had invited Rhett to her office when what she’d wanted was to show him the door. They had struck a deal to see each other on weekends only.

  Rhett noticed the gentle sway of Denise’s hips in a pair of black cropped stretch pants. He knew she was tense because her back was ramrod straight and both hands at her side were balled into fists. The casual slacks, sleeveless white blouse and black sandals with a wedge heel made her look more approachable than she had the night before. The blue dress reminded him of an ice queen—look but don’t touch. And he hadn’t touched her except to cradle her elbow.

  Even her hairstyle was different. Instead of the bun, which he’d found much too severe for her age and delicate features, a narrow headband pulled her glossy curls off her face. When they were in school together she’d always worn a short hairstyle.

  Rhett felt the flesh between his thighs come to life when the image of her hair spread across his pillow popped into his head. Just as quickly, it went away, leaving him breathing heavier and with an ache in his groin. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Fortunately for him, Denise was in front of him or she wouldn’t have been able to miss his hard-on straining against his fly. As surreptitiously as he could, he buttoned his jacket, concealing the bulge.

  “How much work did you have to do to this place before you were able to open?” He had to talk. Say anything to keep his mind off Denise’s slim, yet curvy body. They walked past closed doors to offices for the center’s social worker, dietician and business manager. Nameplates identified each person and their position.

  Denise slowed when she came to an open area with eight round tables, each with seating for six. As in the reception area, she’d decided against chairs, opting instead for benches. Several skylights, potted plants, ferns and ficus trees provided a parklike atmosphere.

  “Not too much,” she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door to her office. Her name and position were etched on the nameplate affixed to the door. “The contractor had to patch up a few holes before he could paint. The previous owner had replaced the roof three years ago, so that saved me at least thirty grand.”

  Stepping aside, Denise let Rhett precede her into the room that at one time had been her second home. She’d come in at dawn to let the workmen in and occasionally slept on an inflatable bed she’d put away in a closet. The center was equipped with three full bathrooms, each with a shower and two half-baths in the nursery and classrooms for children, ranging in age from two to five.

  “Please sit down, Rhett.” Denise gestured toward a love seat in a soft neutral shade. She sat in a matching one facing him. She crossed one leg over the other, bringing his gaze to linger on the rose-pink polish on her toes. “Would you like something to eat or drink? We’ve just finished giving the children their lunch, so the kitchen is still open.”

  “No, thank you. I just ate.”

  He glanced around Denise’s office. It reflected her personality with plants lining a window ledge. Her desk was an old oak top from another generation, a Tiffany-style desk lamp, a fireplace mantel filled with different size candles. Three of the four walls in her office were brick, the remaining one covered with framed prints of children from around the world.

  Denise stared at Rhett through lowered lashes. To say he looked delicious was an understatement. Today he wore a dark blue suit with a maroon-colored silk tie and white shirt. He looked nothing like the college student who’d favored jeans, pullover sweaters or sweatshirts. At that time, Rhett owned just one suit, which he only wore on special occasions.

  “How old is that desk?”

  Rhett’s question caught Denise off guard. She didn’t know why he’d come to the center, but she was willing to bet it had nothing to do with the furnishings. “It’s quite old.”

  He smiled. “How old is quite old?”

  “I’m not selling it, Rhett.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Why don’t you wait for me to make an offer.”

  “Offer all you want, I’m not selling.”

  Rhett angled his head, staring at the antique desk. “Have you had it appraised?”

  She nodded. “Appraised and insured. It belonged to my grandfather who got it from a client who’d lost all of his assets in the crash of ’29. The desk and several other pieces of furniture were payment for a criminal case my grandfather had taken on and won for him. My father inherited it from his father. He gave up his practice once he was appointed to the bench, and I quickly put in my bid for the desk.”

  “Who else wanted it?” Rhett asked.

  “Every lawyer in the family pulled out their checkbooks, claiming it should go to someone practicing law, not a schoolteacher.”

  “Ouch,” Rhett drawled, smiling. “That’s definitely a shot across the bow.”

  Denise sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right. I was quick to tell them the desk belonged to my father, and as his baby girl I was entitled to it.”

  “No, you didn’t pull the baby-girl card.”

  “Whatever works, Rhett.”

  He sobered. “Speaking of whatever works, I’d like you to give me a tour of the facility.”

  “Why?” she countered. “Are you thinking of becoming an investor?”

  Denise regretted the question as soon as it rolled off her tongue. It was enough that Rhett owned the building and the land on which New Visions Childcare sat, but she didn’t need him to own a percentage of her business.

  “Do you need an investor, Denise?”

  “No,” she said much too quickly. “My revenues are enough to support the day care operation.”

  “Do you have money put aside?”

  “Yes.” And she did. The monies she would get from the sale of her co-op would become her emergency fund. Denise had promised herself that she wouldn’t use her personal funds unless it was a dire emergency. So far, she’d been able to keep that promise.

  “Good for you.” Rhett stood up, extended his hand and pulled Denise gently to her feet. “My initial reason for coming was to talk to you about this weekend.”

  “You could’ve called me, Rhett. After all, I did give you my number.”

  “I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop by.”

  He hadn’t lied to Denise. He’d come to this section of D.C. to tour the neighborhood and see what was needed to upgrade the quality of life for the people who lived there. His company owned four square blocks designated for commercial use; the urban planner on his staff had suggested he drive around the neighborhood to survey the area before he made his decision about redevelopment.

  “What are you doing, Rhett? Taking stock of your assets?”

  Rhett knew Denise was spoiling for a confrontation because he’d coerced her into being his escort for the summer. She could’ve called his bluff and said no, but she hadn’t. Despite their very intimate past, she still hadn’t known him that well. If she had, then she would’ve believed him rather than Trey when he’d told her that he hadn’t been sleeping with other women. And if she had truly believed him when he confessed to loving her, she wouldn’t have ended up in bed with Trey.

  He hadn’t purchased the real estate to jack up the rents, as he’d threatened to do with New Visions, but to improve the property and the quality of life for the residents. Rhett wasn�
�t that far removed from the neighborhood in which he’d grown up not to recognize the importance of adequate child care. It provided a safe haven for the children of working parents and those who were trying to pursue their education and thereby better themselves and their families. However, Denise had fallen into a carefully planned trap.

  He took a step, bringing him close enough for her chest to touch his. “Which assets do you speak of?”

  Denise hadn’t realized the double entendre until it was too late. Her lips parted at the same time Rhett angled his head, brushing his mouth over hers. His hands came up and he took her face, holding it gently as if he feared she would shatter if he let her go.

  Slowly, deliberately, he caressed instead of kissing her mouth, seeking to allay her fears that he wanted to dismantle what she’d worked so hard to establish. He kissed her because it was something he’d wanted to do the moment he saw her walk across the lobby of the Hay-Adams hotel.

  Tiptoeing, Denise pressed her lips closer. Rhett’s mouth brushed hers like a butterfly fluttering over her lips. She wanted more, much more, but she knew they couldn’t and wouldn’t go back in time.

  She and Rhett had been caught up in a magical world where love and passion were indistinguishable. They’d eaten together, studied together, made love to each other and spent countless hours planning a future that included marriage and children.

  However, four years of togetherness ended abruptly when the rumor floating around the university that Garrett Fennell was sleeping with her and another student was no longer a rumor but real when Denise opened the door to her boyfriend’s dorm room to find a naked woman asleep in his bed. In that instant, the love she’d known and felt for Rhett disappeared. She’d left as quietly as she’d come, walking out of the building and out of Rhett’s life.

  “Don’t! Please, Rhett.”

  Rhett froze, his gaze meeting and fusing with Denise’s. There was something in her eyes he recognized as fear and he wondered whether he’d put it there. He dipped his head to kiss her again, but her hands pressed against his chest stopped him.