International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 18

  “Ready?” Rochelle asks, the excitement she mentioned before coming off her in waves of electric energy.

  “As I’ll ever be.” I smile tiredly as I sit on the couch near her desk, and with a few taps on my tablet to mirror it on her monitor, a picture of a black man in his early thirties appears on the screen. Rochelle sits up, brings her knees together, and sets her chin on her propped hands.

  “Michael Conway. Software developer in Silicon Valley. Freelance. Has created successful apps that work with the emergency response network in the area. Income annually is in the low six figures, but has solid investments.”

  “Family?”

  “Divorced. No kids.”

  “Really? He’s either been hurt before or was the one doing the hurting.”

  “Is that important? Do you have a preference either way?” I go right for the jugular, wanting her to feel a twinge of remorse, especially after the shenanigans she inadvertently pulled on Roy. Inadvertent may be too generous of a word, because I don’t think it’s possible that Rochelle does anything without thinking through every possible outcome. It’s definitely the way I would and did handle a business hookup. Except with Sophie—I respected and cared enough about the woman to form a platonic relationship after the fact.

  “Just taking this seriously. My future depends on it. If he’s been hurt, he’ll be more likely to not hurt me. Right?”

  It’s sad, but she’s right, and I’m not surprised to see her taking this seriously, asking the questions that are truly important to her, regardless of any potential judgment. I respect the ballsy approach. It’s obviously gotten her far in her professional life, but less so in her personal. Hopefully I can fix that.

  I click my tongue and pull up his file to scan it once more. Once I find the nugget I’m looking for—thank you, Wendy, world’s greatest assistant—I offer it up. “According to the county recorder’s office, his wife filed for a marriage license a week after their divorce was finalized three years ago.”

  She makes a sour face and pouts. “Poor, sexy man.”

  I flick to the next image. “Sean White. Recently retired from professional baseball. Already secured a job as coach of the San Francisco State University team.”

  “Pass. I have zero desire to go to college baseball games or any sports-related events of any kind. Ever.”

  “You sure? His mother has passed, which means no annoying mother-in-law, and he was cheated on by his last two groupie girlfriends, which means he’ll be loyal to you.”

  She shakes her head. “Again, Parker, I have no desire to watch, talk, or deal with a jock in any shape or form. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I dated a professional ballplayer. They are angry when you don’t want to go to games, angry when you want them to shut it off and spend time with you, angry when you know very little of the sport or don’t root for a team. Jocks need to be off the list.”

  Angry when you don’t spend time with them.

  Flashes of midnight studying spells where Kayla would walk out in a sexy nightie, wanting me to stop prepping for finals and, instead, spend time making her feel good come to mind. Those nights would kill me. It seemed every time I had something crucial to prep for, she’d pull her “you’re not paying any attention to me” bullshit. I’d spend half the evening making her feel worshipped, and the other half pouring coffee down my throat and going to class bleary eyed and sleep deprived. All for what? A woman who was getting herself some from not one but two different men. Making sure her future was shiny and bright with at least one of us to take care of her.

  With a scowl, I bring up the next image. “Done. What about a man in finance?” I ask, even though the next candidate is not in finance but a firefighter.

  She looks at the monitor. “He’s hot.”

  “He’s a fireman.” I point to him. He has cornrows tightly braided to his scalp in what seems to be a perfect quarter inch apart. His smile is wide, and based on his bio and evaluation, he’s the most down-to-earth gentleman of the bunch. Still, I need to get her to think about someone a bit closer to home. Someone who is already ass-over-dick in love with her. “What about a man who shares your profession?”

  She shrugs. “Would make things a lot easier at functions and work events.”

  “This guy has a big family, but they’re on the East Coast, so you’d likely have to visit only on holidays, anniversaries, etc.”

  “Nice. Keep him in the mix for sure.”

  I flick the button to bring the next image on the screen.

  “Damn . . . you’ve got some striking men. Kudos to you.” Her dark eyes light up at the image before her.

  I grin. The man is wearing glasses similar to what Keehan wears and looks a lot like the guy. Similar skin tone and close-cropped black hair, except Keehan is usually clean shaven and this man has a goatee and thin mustache. The image is his professional headshot Wendy pulled off the UC Davis website, so he’s in his standard white coat and wearing a hospital badge. She can’t be visually attracted to this man and not be attracted to Keehan. It’s aesthetically impossible.

  “Doctor. Head of emergency medicine at UC Davis.”

  “Nice. Busy guy. Wouldn’t have a problem with me working all the time because he’d be working all the time. We could meet at home long enough to share a meal, take a roll between the sheets, and sleep. Having a doctor on my arm would be lovely at parties.”

  “If he doesn’t have an emergency. Apparently, that’s his reason for not having a mate. He goes on plenty of dates, but most of the time, he’s also on call and has to leave the woman hanging.”

  She tips her head. “Not a big deal for me. I’d likely never have the time for the date in the first place.” Her corresponding laughter rings out.

  Hell, that reminds me. When was the last time I took Skyler on a bona fide date? The Italian restaurant and show. Unless you count the royal wedding we attended together. Skyler deserves some romance. A candlelit dinner, a walk along the beach . . . something that will make my girl feel as special as she makes me feel. I make a mental note to have Wendy send her some flowers, which has me wondering what her favorite flower is.

  I’m a shit boyfriend. I see my woman enough to eat, sleep, and fuck her most of the time. We need a change. The idea of her moving to Boston sends a little thrill up my spine, weaves its way around my neck and face until I’m sporting a huge smile. My mother and Wendy would love getting to know Skyler better.

  Rochelle’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Uh, hello? Next guy.” Rochelle laughs.

  Instead of changing the screen, I lean forward and make a show of scrutinizing the photo. “Man, this guy reminds me of someone . . .” I put the carrot out and hope she takes a bite.

  Her eyes narrow, and then, out of nowhere, a huge smile spreads across her cheeks. “Oh my God! You’re right. He looks like Keehan! Down to the glasses and all.” She laughs.

  This is my chance to plant a seed.

  “Keehan said you guys have been together since the beginning?” I ask.

  She nods and looks wistfully at the image on the screen, but somehow, I know she’s not seeing the doctor but Keehan’s face. “Yeah, he’s like family to me. Committed. Best employee and friend I’ve ever had.”

  “Really? You two hang out?” Damn, I’m good at my job.

  She grins. “When our schedules permit. Nice thing, we almost always have the same schedule, so it’s natural to eat a lot of our meals together, spend holidays with one another, and the like. I’ve met his family, he’s met mine. We are both single children of overachievers. My parents live in New York and run their own company. His parents are in Seattle, big in the shipping industry.”

  “And the two of you have never hooked up?” I toss out the golden coin, hoping she reaches for it.

  Her face contorts into a confused expression. “What? No. We’re colleagues. Friends.”

  “Oh, so you don’t find him attractive.” I state it matter-of-factly in order to urge her to consider his physic
al attributes.

  She frowns. “I never said that.”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Keehan is one of the most attractive men I know. Women everywhere drool when we enter a restaurant or walk down the street. And you can’t see his body behind his suits, but we often hit the gym together, and the man is a brick house.”

  “And yet you don’t drool over him?”

  She chuckles. “When he’s got his shirt off, I will admit to the possibility of a little drool.”

  I laugh to keep the comradery and light conversation going. “Huh, I guess it’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?”

  “You and he, two attractive people, working closely together all these years, spending your free time together. Just seems, I don’t know . . . a little strange you haven’t fallen into a relationship.”

  “I never said we didn’t have a relationship. My relationship with Keehan is the most important in my life. He means the world to me. He’s the one man in the world besides my father I trust to always tell me the truth and treat me with respect. Keehan has my back in all things, as I have his.”

  “Oh, so it will be a little strange when you have to give up a lot of your time together for your future husband.”

  “Excuse me? What are you saying?” She frowns, pushes into the seat, straightening her body in a more defensive posture.

  I lean back into the couch and stretch my arm out. “Rochelle, any man who secures you as his woman is not going to be okay with the tight relationship you have with Keehan. He’ll have to take a bit of a step back in order to let your man be the one you count on, go to for things. Be there for you at night, on holidays, if you’ve had a hard day. Take you out for your birthday . . .”

  Her response sounds strained as she replies. “But Keehan takes me out every year. We have a tradition. On my birthday we fly to a new place we’ve never been. We stay the weekend and take in all the sights. We do the same on his birthday. It’s kind of our way of taking a small vacation and decompressing. It’s sacred, and we’ve done it since we were in college together.”

  “And you think your new man is going to be okay with you gallivanting away for a weekend with your ‘friend’ and employee, while he sits back at home?” I cock an eyebrow so she realizes the gravity of what I’m saying.

  She shakes her head and puts her hand over her mouth. For a long time, she doesn’t say anything. “Show me the next picture, please.” Her voice is tight, no longer expressing any excitement in the task at hand.

  “You’re the boss.”

  Mission accomplished. I smile smugly as I bring up the next photo.

  “Harkin Elba. Engineer. Never been married. Parents are deceased. Has a sister and a brother he’s close to—” I’m about to say more when she cuts me off.

  “Fine. Next.” She waves her hand at the screen, barely giving the man a glance, she’s so lost in her thoughts. Which I hope all lead back to one man.

  Keehan Williams.

  “Hey, Peaches.” I answer the phone and plop into the armchair in my suite. “I’m about to meet up with Royce for dinner, so we have to be quick.”

  A sob tears through the connection, and my hackles rise.

  “Skyler, baby, what’s the matter?” I stand abruptly, looking around the room, not knowing what to do when I hear her cry.

  “H-he, he’s going to show the w-world . . .” Her voice shatters into another bout of loud sobs.

  I clench my teeth and roll my shoulders. “Skyler . . . baby, you gotta stop crying so I can understand what’s got you so upset. I want you to breathe with me, okay? In . . .” I suck in a long breath. “. . . out.” I let the air out loud enough for her to hear me. I do this several more times until her crying subsides.

  “Now talk to me. You’re scaring me. Who’s going to show the world, and what are they going to show?”

  “Johan. He . . . Oh my God, Parker, it’s so bad.” Every word seems painful.

  “What is, Peaches? What is so bad? Tell me.”

  “You’ll hate me. They’re all going to hate me!” The tears start back up.

  “Skyler, stop crying right now and speak to me!” I scold with the harshest tone I can muster, hoping it shocks her out of her crying jag.

  “Johan is my ex.” Her voice cracks.

  “Yes, I know. You were with him almost two years. We haven’t talked much about him, though I know he was important to you and he hurt you.”

  “Yeah, but not like he’s about to.” Her words come out in a breathy whimper, each one apparently requiring extreme effort.

  My heart pounds a furious beat in my chest as my worry for her increases. “Baby, what is going on?”

  “He has pictures of me, Parker. Scandalous ones. And he . . . he . . .” She swallows loudly and lets out a breath. “He says he’s going to write a tell-all book and include the pictures. Show everyone! And I . . . That’s not who I am! I only . . . God . . . I did it for him!” She starts crying again.

  “Okay, okay, sweetheart. I think I’ve got the gist of this. He’s going to write some type of bullshit book about your relationship with him and share some pictures you don’t want shared? Am I following?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice is broken, and I can hear the devastation in every word she utters.

  “What are these pictures of?”

  “Me!” she chokes out.

  “I gathered that, baby, but be more specific so I understand why you are so upset.”

  “Doing things. Posed in compromising positions.” Her breath comes out ragged, and I wish I were looking into her face right now, ready to help take on this burden by her side.

  Based on how much this is hurting her, I’m guessing the man took naked photos of her. I grind my back molars, walk over to the bar, pour two fingers of scotch, and slam the liquor back in one go.

  “I’m assuming you’re naked in these photos?”

  She sniffles. “Yeah, honey. But it’s more than that. He was into kinky things and made me do things to him . . . wear things he wanted.”

  Visions of my Skyler in a variety of seriously debauched positions fly through my mind. “Such as?”

  “Well . . . in one of them, I was tied up to a cross on the wall. You can see e-everything. I was blindfolded. I didn’t even know he took them!” Her voice rises and falls with her fury.

  “Fuck!”

  “Parker . . . ,” she whimpers. “Please don’t hate me.”

  “Baby, I could never hate you. I’m not so innocent. We’ve both tried some kink in our past. As long as you were a consenting adult, there’s no problem. The problem is him taking photos without your knowledge.”

  “In another one, I’ve got a ball gag in my mouth, and I’m wearing nipple clamps and nothing else. Again blindfolded, but you can tell it’s me. Anyone could!”

  The ball gag doesn’t do a thing for me, but the nipple clamps would have my dick firing at attention if my girl weren’t so distraught and I ready to commit bloody murder on her ex.

  “He says he’s going to tell the world about how kinky I am and how I liked to whip him and I left scars on his back the makeup artists have to cover up in his photo shoots. But I never did that! The most I did was flog him, and it wasn’t much fun. He always wanted it harder than I could do, and we’d get in a huge fight, and he’d tell me I was a terrible lover, and . . . and . . .” Her breath starts coming in labored pants, leading to a whopper of a meltdown.

  “I know, baby, and he’s dead wrong. You’re the best lover I’ve ever had. Ever. You’re so hot in the sack, baby, I never get enough. Don’t listen to him. He’s pissed he doesn’t have a chance with you ever again. He’s a piece of shit who wants to make money off your good fortune.”

  “But what am I going to do? He’ll ruin my reputation in the industry. Kill my career.”

  I shake my head, though she can’t see it. “I highly doubt that, Skyler. Have you talked to Tracey?”

  “No. I called you first.” Her tone is soft and
needy.

  “Oh, baby . . .” My girl is being threatened, and she calls me first. I’m the first person in the world she goes to. Nothing could make me feel stronger, bigger, and more of a man than I do in this moment. Now I need to figure out how the hell I can help her through this. Flying to wherever this Johan is and beating the shit out of him sounds like the perfect idea right about now.

  I pour myself another two fingers of scotch right as there are a couple of knocks on my door.

  “Sky, listen to me . . .” I wait for her crying to stop again as I open the door and wave Royce in. “You’re going to breathe through this. You’re going to go and take a long hot shower. Then you’re going to call Tracey and tell her everything this schmuck threatened you with and what you think he plans to do with those pictures and his bullshit story. Then you’re going to pour yourself a nice stiff drink and order a pizza. Turn on the fire and watch the romance streaming app you like. Passionflix, is it?”

  “Yeah . . .” She sniffs and lets out a shuddery breath.

  “You’re going to be okay. Repeat it for me, Peaches.”

  “I-I’m going to be o-okay.”

  “Good. Real good. Now hang up with me and call Tracey. I want you to call me back later when you’ve gotten more information and heard from Tracey. Okay?”

  “Okay.” A beat of silence greets me before she says, “Park?”

  “Right here, baby.”

  “You don’t think any differently of me? You know, because I did that stuff?”

  My poor girl. I close my eyes and run a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots until I feel the prick of pain. “No, Skyler. I don’t feel any differently about you. You’re my woman. I like you a lot, remember? And besides . . . I’m falling for you.”

  “I like you so much.” Her voice cracks on a little sob. “I might even love you a little bit. Especially now.”

  I smile huge, because I feel the spear of her words hit my heart and burst my chest open with pride. “Save that type of talk until we’re face-to-face and I can hold you . . . and do other things to you. Okay?” I try to use my most suggestive tone so she’ll calm down.