Sha-Shana Dane had done a lot of performances in her life, most of which would make her mother roll over in her grave, but at least she’d been paid for those gigs. Now, she was beginning to wonder if she’d get paid for her best performance yet.
“You better answer the phone, Ginger,” she said as she held her cell phone to her ear. She had called twice already and hung up both times when the voice mail picked up. But she wouldn’t stop calling until Ginger answered.
On the third ring, Ginger answered. “Hello?”
“Finally, girl.”
“Mia?”
“
No.
It’s Sha-Shana.”
“Oh. Sha-Shana, can you call me later?”
“Don’t tell me to call you later. You’ve put me off every time I’ve called you. And you damn well know we need to talk.”
“I know. I’m not avoiding you, I swear. Just trying to work things out on my end.”
“I heard you on Depraved Dave’s show.”
“It’s been a busy morning. Now I have to call my lawyer.”
“You and your husband have split, just like you wanted. That was the deal. Now you need to pay me.”
“Come on, Sha-Shana. You know that’s what I’m trying to do. That’s why I’ve got to call my lawyer.”
“If you’re giving me the brush-off—”
“The brush-off?”
Ginger said it as though it wasn’t even an option. But Sha-Shana knew better. The woman lied like it was a sport.
“You know I wouldn’t do you like that,” Ginger continued. “All of this is taking a bit longer than I thought it would. Look, are you at home?”
Sha-Shana made a fist. She breathed in slowly to curb her anger. “No.”
“Then I’ll call your cell.”
“I’ll give you an hour. Otherwise, I’m sure your husband would be very interested in hearing what I have to say.”
“You’ll hear from me.”
“I’d better.”
Anthony wore the baseball cap far over his forehead as he sat behind the wheel of his Navigator. He had been parked outside of the Merkowitz Wellness Center for a good hour and fifteen minutes. The windows were tinted, so he wasn’t concerned about being spotted.
He was getting restless, and his right leg was starting to fall asleep, but he was determined to see the doctor today. The question was, how should he approach her? Go into the office and demand to see her? Or wait, as he was doing, for her to make an appearance?
He thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he contemplated what to do. After several minutes, he ruled out
going into the office. The last thing he needed was another confrontation, or the appearance of one. He’d had enough negative media attention to last a lifetime.
He gripped the steering wheel and groaned. He’d been waiting forever, but he’d just have to be patient. Hopefully, Dr. Love would make an appearance soon.
Lecia was striding down the street in front of the clinic when she felt the strong hand on her arm.
As her mouth fell open in shock, she heard, “Come this way.” Before her brain could work fast enough for her to form a scream or a protest, she was at the door to a Lincoln Navigator. Gold in color, it looked to be top of the line.
“Get in.”
She had visions of being whisked into a car and never heard from again. Her brain kicked into action. “I know kung fu.”
“So do I.” He reached for the door. “Get in.”
Lecia knew that voice. As she looked up at her kidnapper, her eyes narrowed. “Anthony?”
Even though he was wearing dark glasses, she could see the smile in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Oh my God.” Lecia’s head whipped around in all directions. With his brawny body blocking her escape, she wasn’t sure how she’d get away.
“For God’s sake, stop looking around for help like you’re scared to death I’m going to hurt you. I’m here to take you for coffee, like I promised in the e-mail I sent you.”
“I didn’t say yes to your offer.”
“But you didn’t say no. I just want half an hour of your time.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s fine. Because I plan on doing the talking.”
“Don’t do this.”
“What? Take you out for coffee?”
“Don’t…don’t stalk me.”
“Stalk?” Anthony balked. “Oh, you probably heard my wife on Depraved Dave’s show. Actually, that’s why I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Name your price. I’ll pay for your time.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Come on. Let me buy you a coffee.” When Lecia didn’t move, Anthony leaned closer and said, “You have a cell phone, right?”
Lecia felt an unexpected shiver of excitement as his warm breath fanned her ear. You’d think he’d suggested using the phone as a sex toy. “Yes.”
“Good. So if you feel scared you can call the cops.”
She merely stared at him.
“I’m trying to prove to you that I’m not planning to hurt you. I just want you to hear me out. Half an hour, tops. Then you can go on your merry way.”
Her brain screamed
No!
but her mouth apparently had a mind of its own. Because she found herself saying, “Fine. Half an hour. But that’s it.”
Lecia watched the scenery change from office buildings to the trendy shops of Beverly Hills with a sinking sense of dread. Anthony wasn’t stopping. She had the feeling the word “sucker” was tattooed on her forehead.
But she didn’t say anything, not even when Anthony turned from Santa Monica Boulevard onto Beverly Drive. Fi
nally, when he crossed Sunset continuing to Benedict Canyon Drive, she couldn’t keep quiet a moment longer. “Um,” she began as they passed house after house. “You said we were going to have coffee.”
“We are.”
“You already passed about half a dozen Starbucks.” Lecia craned her neck over her shoulder as they drove past large trees and wide gates that no doubt led to enormous houses. “And why do I have the feeling we won’t be finding any in this neighborhood?”
“I’m taking you to a very special place.”
“Oh.” More dread.
“I hope you like Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.”
“Where are we going to have it? Jamaica?”
Anthony actually chuckled, a soft, warm sound. “Naw. I just figured it was best that we have some privacy. Especially with what’s been going on with me in the media recently. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? You’re taking me to God only knows where and you think that’ll make me feel comfortable?” She dug her phone out of her purse.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Put that away.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.” She recognized where they were heading: Beverly Park, an exclusive Beverly Hills neighborhood where some of the richest people lived.
“Geez, if you want Starbucks that badly—”
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“I have to get back to the office.”
“You will. How much time do you have?”
“Half an hour.” Though the truth was, she had planned on
taking a two-hour lunch to catch up on reading. “Which leaves you about ten minutes.”
“Okay—when do you absolutely have to be back?”
“This is insane.”
“You might want to stay a while.”
Lecia sighed her frustration. “About another hour and a half,” she grudgingly admitted. “But I’d planned on eating something.”
“No problem.”
Anthony pulled up to the security gate leading to the community of Beverly Park. Lecia tuned him out as he spoke to the guard.
This truly
was
insane, even if she was the teeniest bit intrigued to see where the great Anthony Beals lived. Assuming he was taking her to his house.
Don’t start liking this,
she told herself.
Who cares how much money he’s got?
He was too sexy for his own good, and the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she’d get back to her office and away from him.
“Are we cool?” Anthony asked as he drove through the gate.
“As a cucumber.” Lecia dropped her phone back into her purse. “But the clock’s ticking. I have a patient at two-fifteen who desperately needs me. She has a particular…Let’s just say it’s important that I’m back for that appointment.”
Anthony raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He drove a short while longer, until he came to a private residence outlined by shrubs and a salmon-colored brick wall. He stuck his hand through the open window and pressed a card against a sensor box. The gates slowly pulled apart.
“Oh my,” Lecia couldn’t help saying as the impressive house came into view. She knew a little about architecture,
and this had an Old World design. It was probably an Italian-style villa, or Portuguese.
“Can I ask where we are?” Lecia asked.
“Kahari Brown’s.”
Lecia gave him a dumbfounded look. “Am I supposed to know him?”
“You don’t know Kahari Brown? Plays wide receiver.”
“Nope.”
“I thought you were a California girl.”
“Florida girl. Miami. Well, I grew up in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Oooh, the Dolphins.”
“Actually, I don’t watch football. I had to watch it with my ex but never got into it. Sorry.”
“Well, you’ll like Kahari.”
It struck Lecia that they were being entirely too casual for what, in effect, was a kidnapping. And if kidnapping was too strong a word, this was hardly a social call.
Even if she’d just been taken to Paradise.
They drove past a parkette, complete with large palm trees and an exquisite lawn, before pulling up to the front of the house. The paved driveway could easily hold thirty cars. Anthony parked beside a white Bentley, popped the locks, then opened his door to get out. Lecia was surprised to see him round the corner to her as she was climbing out of the Navigator. He offered her a hand, but she got down on her own and stepped to the side.
Anthony started to walk, and Lecia followed him. Her eyes swept over his broad back, clad in a form-fitting T-shirt. There was no doubt, Anthony Beals was one sexy man.
She wrenched her gaze away from him and took in the magnificent view of the house. Pale brown in color, it had at least a dozen archways. The arch above the door had to be a
good fifty feet, behind which large windows from the second floor displayed fancy curtain swags. Her family had money, but she had never set foot on such an opulent estate.
“I don’t want to gawk. Okay, I’m gawking. How big is this place? Fifteen thousand square feet?”
“Twenty.”
Lecia’s mouth fell open. She surveyed the ornate light fixtures outside the door while Anthony pressed the doorbell. The theme song from
Monday Night Football
sounded.
Of course, Lecia thought, rolling her eyes. Kahari Brown was probably the type of ball player into the bling bling—large gold chains, gaudy gold and diamond rings. How could he not be, with an estate this size?
The door opened. A man whose chest looked as big as a Mac truck greeted them both with a warm smile. He wore khaki shorts and a T-shirt, but no jewelry, except for one class-type ring.
“Yo, T.”
Anthony stepped into the massive foyer. It rivaled some of the hotel foyers Lecia had seen. Twin staircases led to a large landing overlooking the lower level. The banister was most likely cherry wood, the steps and floor marble. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung above their heads. Lecia wouldn’t have been surprised if the metal was platinum. Straight ahead, past the area beneath the landing, was what appeared to be a living room.
“’Sup, dawg,” Anthony said.
The two men greeted each other with a chest-knocking hug.
“So this is Dr. Love.” Kahari’s eyes roamed lazily over her.
Lecia stopped gawking to face him. “That’s me.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Kahari Brown seemed polite enough. Not at all like a cocky star athlete. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for letting us come by,” Anthony said. “We’ll just head on to the kitchen.” He turned to Lecia. “Unless you prefer to sit outside?”
“Wherever we’ll get this done ASAP.”
“You’ll like the view outside.”
Although this situation was hardly ideal, Lecia couldn’t help looking around the massive house with wide-eyed wonder. It wasn’t a house; it was a palace. The walls were stark white, but the furnishings were dark colors. She continued to gawk as she absentmindedly followed Anthony. This place was so big that two people could live here and never see each other.
The kitchen boasted a large metal fridge, black marble floors, black granite counters, and white cupboards.
Lecia supposed there was a first for everything, and seeing an actual café-style sitting area in the kitchen complete with leather sofas was a first for her. Surrounded with an alcove that had a coffeemaker, cappuccino machine, and bar, it was like this kitchen had its own Starbucks. The only thing missing was the menu display showing prices for calorie-ridden specialty coffees.
She would have been more than content to sit and have a coffee there—until she caught sight of the backyard. Wow—she had been kidnapped and taken to heaven. In immediate viewing range was a large pea-shaped pool with a cascading waterfall. Surrounded by lush foliage, Lecia couldn’t help feeling that she had stepped out of L.A. and onto a Caribbean island. Several lounge chairs lined the pool’s perimeter. In the distance behind the pool, she could see the hillside and other houses across the valley.
Clearly, the wide receiver liked to entertain.
Women?
“So, where will it be?”
Lecia spun around. Her heart slammed in her chest when she saw Anthony standing so near to her. He truly was one fine-looking brother. Tall—at least six feet two. Smooth, dark skin. Strong arms. And for the first time, she realized that a T-shirt could be sexy as hell—as long as it was on the right man.
Startled by the turn of her thoughts, she turned, hugging her torso. What was wrong with her? This was a man who had come unglued, to her detriment, on national TV.
“Dr. Love?”
“Please, call me Lecia.” Dr. Love sounded silly on his lips.
“As long as you call me Tony. Or T.”
“All right.”
“So, would you rather sit inside or outside?”
“Outside’s fine,” she said.
“Coffee or coladas?” That was Kahari speaking from behind them. “And what theme do you want—Caribbean or Mediterranean?”