Locked in Temptation Page 23

  “Joy?”

  Through her hazy and confused mind, she heard her name being called and blinked. Stonewall was staring at her. “You okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded, seeing the concern in his eyes. “Yes, I’m okay.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. For the first time since her breakup with Omar, she’d decided to open her mind to possibilities she hadn’t considered. Had refused to consider.

  Could I consider them now?

  She met Stonewall’s gaze. “May I ask you something?”

  “Yes, anything you want.”

  She knew that to be true. Over the course of the time they’d known each other, she’d asked him far more questions than he’d ever asked her. Being a detective made her an inquisitive person. Nothing personal. That’s just the way she was.

  Even now he sat there ready to answer any question she threw at him in that deep, husky voice of his. The same one that could make all kinds of sensations thrum through her. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

  If he found her question odd, his face didn’t show it. Instead he leaned back in his chair and studied her with one of his heated stares. Suddenly his lips curved into a smile, and she couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. He folded his arms across his broad chest as if her question deserved all the deep thought he was giving it. At that moment, she knew whatever his answer might be, it would be something she could go to bed tonight thinking about. It would be something she remembered.

  “When I look at you I see beauty, and I am enthralled by it. Beauty that’s not fabricated or fake. It’s the real deal, and it goes deep and connects with a sense of caring that goes even deeper. That’s why you’re so good at your job. Why you’re so meticulous in carrying it out.”

  He paused a moment. “I also see a woman who holds herself in, not necessarily because of a past hurt but because of a chance once taken and a regret about that. Where others fall off a bicycle and get back on, you’d rather walk the rest of the way. You don’t like getting bruises. For you they become permanent.”

  What Stonewall said were some awful truths about her. Maybe they were difficult to hear, but they’d been truths. Truths that up till now she could live with because they were a part of her makeup. Now she wasn’t so sure. “What’s wrong with a person wanting to protect herself against pain? Against bruises?”

  She watched the way his brow furrowed. The way his lips worked their way into a sigh before he said, “Over the years I’ve asked myself the same question. When you’ve lost three vital members of your family within a six-month period, you think protecting yourself against future hurt and pain is the only way. I admit I still do at times. Forever is something I don’t like thinking about because for me it doesn’t exist. My acceptance of there being no forever is like your fear of engaging in a relationship. We’re held hostage by the protective gear we’ve put in place.”

  She heard his words and understood them. He might believe in relationships but he didn’t believe in forever. To be quite honest, she didn’t believe in it, either. In her book, a man and woman could enjoy each other without the entanglements of a relationship. It could be an association based solely on physical needs. Whereas he believed that even if a relationship existed, you were still in control. You were the one who decided how far, how long and how deep it went.

  Now for her next question. “Have you ever been in love?”

  A lone dimple appeared in his right cheek and he said, “No, I can’t say that I have.” Then he asked, “What about you?”

  She found his question strange, especially since he’d known of her engagement to Omar. Did he not think she’d loved Omar? She had loved him. Hadn’t she? That question gave her pause. Would she have left and walked out of Omar’s life so easily if she’d truly loved him? And when she’d walked away she hadn’t looked back. Even now she rarely thought about him unless her parents brought him up.

  “I thought I was,” she heard herself say. “Now I’m not so sure.” She then said, “It’s hard to read you at times, Stonewall.”

  “When it comes to what?”

  “How you really feel about things. How you feel about us and the time we’ve been spending together,” she said.

  “The diversions?”

  “Yes.”

  He was quiet a moment, then said, “My grandmother always tells me that it’s a waste of time fighting about the inevitable. It’s not worth the effort.”

  She held his gaze. “You think we’ll engage in a relationship eventually?”

  “Yes. There’s too much chemistry—sexual and otherwise—for us not to. One day you’ll realize these diversions just don’t cut it.”

  Had he realized it? “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because we’ll want more. Not forever, but more. You being here now proves that point.”

  Did it? she wondered. “What do I get out of a relationship with you?”

  “Whatever you want to get out of it based on whatever you put into it. You can’t get anything out if you don’t put anything in.”

  And that, she thought, was the root of her problem. “I might not have time to put anything into it.”

  He slowly stood and began collecting the plates off the table. When he’d gathered everything up he said, “At some point, Joy, you have to concede that you deserve a life besides that of a cop.”

  She didn’t ask if he had one outside being a bodyguard. She knew the answer. He had friends he spent time with. He had his community work, his volunteering at Sheppard Granger’s foundation. How did he find the time for it all?

  As if he read her thoughts he said, “Another thing Granny Kay likes to say is that you find the time for the things you truly want to do.” Then, without saying another word, he walked away.

  Joy sat there and watched him discard their trash, and it was then that she made up her mind about something. It was time she took some of his grandmother’s advice. “Stonewall?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yes?”

  “If that invitation still stands about Striker and Margo’s cookout, I’d love to go with you.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, and a part of her knew he understood what she was saying. For now there would be no promises made. No risk of promises being broken later. “The invitation still stands,” he finally said.

  Joy drew in a deep breath. For the first time in years she felt a sense of doing something for herself. She finally felt as if she was taking charge. She wasn’t sure how things would turn out or where they would lead. But at least she was willing to risk finding out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “WHAT THE HELL were you trying do? Mark her up for life?”

  Stonewall had known he’d get some ribbing from Striker, Quasar or both. The outfit Joy was wearing, a pair or capris with a flowing sleeveless tunic, could cover only so much skin. The parts exposed showed passion marks. He knew she’d tried using some makeup, but leave it to Striker to see beyond that.

  “Do you have to notice every damn thing?” Stonewall asked, trying to keep his voice low. Quasar was standing only a few feet away, adjusting the volume on the speakers. The last thing he needed was Quasar overhearing and adding his two cents.

  “Why not? This is an intimate group, three dudes with their women and—”

  “Joy is not my woman.”

  Striker rolled his eyes. “If I recall, she wasn’t your detective, either.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  Striker smiled. “Whatever. Besides, her not being your woman is a temporary state since I’m sure you’re working on changing that.”

  Stonewall frowned. “And what gives you that idea?”

  “Because I know for a fact you haven’t dated another woman, not even as much as scoped
out another one, since meeting your detective.”

  “Her name is Joy.”

  Striker chuckled. “Yeah, I know. And the psychic’s name is Randi, and that woman standing over there, the one in the blue shorts, who can still be nosy as hell at times, is Margo.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  “Whatever,” Striker said, waving off Stonewall’s words with the spatula. “Besides, if you’d notice, all three women could belong to the Passion Mark Club since each has a hickey showing in plain view.”

  Stonewall glanced over at the women. Did they? If they did, he hadn’t noticed.

  “You need to be more observant, Stonewall. You’re a protector, after all.”

  Stonewall knew Striker hated the term bodyguard and refused to be called one. Instead, he referred to the men and women who worked for Roland as protectors. “I am observant,” Stonewall said. “I just don’t make it a habit to check out another man’s wife, namely Margo. Or another man’s fiancée, namely Randi.”

  “What about Randi?” Quasar asked, joining them.

  “I was just telling Stonewall about that huge hickey on her neck.”

  Quasar smiled. “What about it? I put it there.”

  “Hell, I would hope so,” Striker said, laughing.

  Stonewall didn’t say anything as he observed his two friends. Falling in love seemed to have agreed with them. He of all people would never have thought that. Like him, they hadn’t had settling down with one woman on their radars. But according to them, it just happened.

  It just happened. He took a swig of his beer, wondering how shit like that could just happen. Striker had been right when he’d said that since Stonewall had met Joy, he hadn’t gone out with another woman.

  He ignored the conversation going on between Striker and Quasar as he looked over at the women again. They were standing together, laughing and conversing like old friends. This was not their first meeting. Margo had met Randi and Joy the night of the cabin fire nearly five months ago. From all accounts, it seemed as if the three had formed a friendship. He shook his head. Funny how that had happened.

  “So, Stonewall, are you and your detective a real item now?” Quasar asked, reclaiming Stonewall’s attention.

  He recalled the decision he and Joy had made in his kitchen after lunch. There was no need to deny anything. “We’re working on it.”

  Striker’s gaze sharpened. “But I thought you said earlier that she wasn’t your woman.”

  Leave it to Striker to dissect his every word. “She’s not yet. At least, not the way I want her to be.” Fully and without any reservations, he thought. “Like I told Quasar, we’re working on it. Joy has issues regarding relationships.”

  “So do you,” Quasar said.

  Stonewall knew it would be a waste of his time to deny what Quasar said because Striker and Quasar knew him better than anyone...except maybe Sheppard. Besides, what Quasar said was true. He did have relationship issues, but as far as he was concerned, they weren’t anything like Joy’s. He had no problem being in a relationship. Where it would be expected to go was his issue.

  “Like I said, we’re working on it.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Are Carson and the baby still expected to leave the hospital today?”

  * * *

  JOY SMILED AT yet another thing Margo said. She hadn’t enjoyed herself at a social gathering like this in months, at least not since she’d gone home for the holidays. Since moving to Charlottesville, she hadn’t had time to make a lot of new friends...other than her neighbor, Cherish. And when she’d met Margo and Randi it had been while working a case. Now with that behind them, she knew she truly liked them.

  She was tempted to sneak a peek at Stonewall, who sat talking to Striker and Quasar. She’d known each and every time he’d looked over at her. His gaze had been like a heated caress that she’d actually felt. Only once had she given in to temptation and looked back. Their eyes had met, and the sexual chemistry that instant had stirred had spoken volumes.

  After their lunch they had sat out on his terrace and talked some more. She’d gotten so caught up in her time with him, she hadn’t thought about all the crime being committed out there in the streets or cases she hadn’t yet solved.

  He had taken her home to change clothes. Of course her television was on since she never turned it off. But he had switched the station to a sports channel to watch a baseball game. When she’d come out of her bedroom after changing, the way his gaze had scanned over her body had heated her insides. It almost made her suggest they skip the cookout altogether and stay in, just the two of them.

  Upon arriving at Striker and Margo’s place, no one seemed surprised to see her with Stonewall, and everyone had immediately made her feel right at home. They were a friendly group, and from the way Striker was interacting with Margo and Quasar was with Randi, she could tell the two couples were very much in love.

  Why hadn’t she and Omar interacted that way when they’d been together? Maybe they had in the beginning, before things started to fizzle. He’d faulted her for it, saying she was putting her job before him, and she would admit she had in a way. But even when she’d tried shifting things to accommodate him, it hadn’t been enough.

  “So, how does it feel being a lieutenant?” Randi asked her, cutting into her thoughts.

  When Joy and Stonewall had first arrived, everyone had congratulated her on her promotion. She smiled over at Randi. “The same, honestly. A big responsibility but I can handle it.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Randi waved off her words. “No need to thank me. I worked with you, remember? I know what you’re capable of, and you’re good at what you do.”

  “Don’t look now but our men are headed this way,” Margo said, giving her and Randi a wink.

  Our men? Margo meant their men. Before she could open her mouth to correct Margo’s assumption, Randi touched her arm and said, “One day he will be.”

  Randi’s words gave her pause. Had Randi read her thoughts? The woman was a psychic. Were her words casual or something more? The guys reached them, and Striker said, “I hate to break things up, but dinner is ready and I just got a text from Roland. Caden is on his way to take Shiloh to the hospital. Her water broke.”

  “Wow, it seems like those Granger babies are arriving fast and furious.”

  Joy couldn’t help but smile.

  * * *

  “OH NO, NOT Dr. Langley,” Rachel Carrington said to her husband in shock. “That’s awful.”

  They had left on Friday morning to visit her parents in Williamsburg, only to return this evening to hear the tragic news about the break-in at the Park Ridge Medical Complex. All Rachel could think about was how, thanks to Dr. Langley, they had their baby girl, Chasta.

  “You’re right, baby, it is awful,” Brett Carrington said, pulling his wife into his arms.

  Neither said anything for a minute, and then Brett told his wife, “I’m just glad we got a chance to meet her. And I’ll always be grateful for her part in recommending us to Beautiful Creations.”

  Rachel nodded. “So will I.”

  The phone rang and Rachel recognized the ringtone. “That’s my brother. He probably talked to our folks, and they told him about our road trip to see them,” Rachel said, pushing out of Brett’s arms to grab the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “And how’s my beautiful niece?”

  Rachel smiled. Everyone in her family loved Chasta. Even the skeptical ones who weren’t sure of the way she and Brett had decided to have a child had come around the moment they’d seen Chasta.

  “Your niece is fine. She slept during most of the drive back home. Brett and I have a feeling she might be keeping us up much of the night. You’re still out of town?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, I’ll be here for a few more days. I talked to Mom and Dad, and they were glad to see you guys. Your surprise visit boosted their spirits.”

  Rachel sighed. “I’m glad, although my spirits are at an all-time low right now.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “When we got back today, we learned that Dr. Kelly Langley, the doctor who referred us to Beautiful Creations, was murdered during a break-in at the medical complex where she works.”

  “That’s awful. Why would any want to break into a medical complex?”

  “For drugs. There’s a pharmacy on-site and according to the news that had been the target. A pharmacist was killed. The same people robbed another pharmacy in the Mixon Town area. Thank God that pharmacy had closed up, and everyone had gone home.”

  “That’s terrible. I hope they catch those responsible. I better go. I need to prep for my meeting on Monday.”

  “Alright. Thanks for calling.”

  “Love you.”

  Rachel smiled. “I love you, too, Anderson. Goodbye.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  BRIGHT AND EARLY Monday morning, Joy stood in front of her office window and looked out at downtown Charlottesville. It was a beautiful city, one that continued to grow on her since she’d first visited nearly two years ago.

  It would be hard to say goodbye when she got ready to move on, and she knew that one day she would. Most career law enforcement officials, the ambitious ones, at least, were always ready to relocate for better opportunities. Unless you were extremely lucky like her father had been. He’d managed to move up the ranks in the Baton Rouge Police Department without relocating once. He ran a tough ship, and he and his department had brought the homicide rate down to low numbers. Because he was a hometown guy, the people loved him, and more than once they’d tried to get him to consider politics. So far he hadn’t, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one day he did.

  She smiled when she thought about how much she’d enjoyed her weekend. Especially the time spent Saturday with Stonewall and his friends. It was enlightening to witness the close relationship Stonewall had with Striker and Quasar. And according to them, they hadn’t gotten along in prison. In fact, for years Striker and Stonewall had been bitter enemies. They credited Sheppard Granger for bringing an end to that hostility. And speaking of Sheppard Granger, they’d gotten word while at the cookout that his son Caden’s wife, Shiloh, had given birth to a nine-pound son. Mom, baby and dad were all doing great. Caden was a renowned award-winning saxophonist, so it came as no surprise that he and Shiloh named their son Sax.