Can't Get Enough of You (2 page)

“Thanks, Jenna,” Taylor said. “Tell me about you. You said you're back from New York. Why the Big Apple?”

“You know I've always been goal oriented. New York was just the means to obtain my goal. I needed to make as much money as I could and finish my doctorate. I did both. It was tough, but I landed a job working as a financial adviser and stockbroker on Wall Street.”

“Wow, I'm impressed! But I'm not surprised. You've always been a determined young woman.”

Jenna laughed, “Some would call it hardheaded. But yes, even when I was little, I loved school and wanted to learn all I could.”

Taylor said, “Tell me about you. Have you been able to locate your family?”

“You remembered,” Jenna smiled. “Not yet, but I haven't given up on finding my brother or my twin sister. Finally I've been able to take the most important step. I hired a private investigator to help me.”

Taylor clasped Jenna's hand. “That is wonderful news. I know it has been a long wait, but I admire the fact you never gave up.”

“Giving up was never an option,” Jenna replied candidly. She'd always dreamed of being reunited with her siblings. She'd refused to let fears or doubts hold her back. Despite the lost years, she'd clung to hope it was not too late.

She had set her course a long time ago. Now that her education was finally behind her, the future looked bright with promise.

She didn't like to remember the weak moment when she'd wavered. At the time, she had been so caught up in her love for Scott, the college basketball star, that she'd actually considered putting her educational and personal plans on hold in order to follow him around the country like a lost puppy.

He'd just been drafted into the NBA; his dream had come true and his future had soared toward the stars. He'd asked her to come with him to give him a year of her undivided attention. After the year, if she still wanted to return to school, he would pay for her education. Thank goodness her common sense had kicked in before she had actually married the man.

At the time she had told herself that she was glad it had not worked out for them. If she had done what he'd asked, she wouldn't have been true to herself. The last thing she'd needed was to spend her life following a man around while her dreams were being ignored.

How long would it have been before his career goals became more important than hers? What about babies? Everything would change when they came. Jenna had once longed for Scott's babies, a family of her own, but she'd also had her own set of priorities. When he'd decided to join the NBA he had broken his promise to her and his family. She'd finally recognized that they'd no longer shared the same hopes for the future.

Shocked to find she was shaking from the intensity of her emotion, Jenna forced herself to focus on something else. She watched the tender way Taylor bottle-fed her beautiful baby girl. Taylor was a wonderful mother, but her life was vastly different from Jenna's. Taylor had a man who loved her and put her first. Donald hadn't asked her to turn her back on her dreams so he could pursue his own.

When Jenna and Scott had recognized what they'd meant to each other—that they'd wanted to spend their lives together—they'd vowed to wait until after graduation to marry. They'd also vowed to keep their plans between the two of them. Scott's decision to join the NBA had changed all that. Jenna hadn't been the one to break their pledge. She'd only done what had been right for her. Scott hadn't liked her decision any more than she'd liked his.

Well, that was a long time ago. Here she was sitting with his sister, not saying what needed to be said. How long was she going to force Taylor to keep on pretending she didn't have a brother?

Taking a deep breath, Jenna asked, “How is Scott?”

Two

“H
e's fine. I don't know if you heard that he retired from the NBA. He's put basketball behind him,” Taylor replied with a smile.

“It was all over the news last spring. It would be impossible not to know,” Jenna said. Suddenly she found herself asking, “Why did he quit? He was still healthy from what I've read.” Then Jenna blushed, knowing perfectly well that it wasn't her concern.

“That was the whole point. Scott wanted to stop at the peak of his career. He's reached his goals, got the championship ring. Deciding it was time to leave, he went into business with Donald and his brothers. Plus, he has other successful investments. Scott has done extremely well financially.”

Jenna nodded, having heard more than enough. She wanted Taylor to stop before she started on his personal life. Her heart still ached when she heard about the beautiful women in his life. Jenna rushed on to say, “Good for him. I always knew he would be successful. Please give him my best.”

Jenna sipped her drink, hoping that subject was closed. She didn't enjoy reading about him in the tabloids or newspapers. Nor did she like to see his photo in some gossip magazine with yet another gorgeous woman on his arm. It was surprising that he hadn't been engaged or married with a house full of babies. She warned herself it was only a matter of time until Scott was taken. He had it all, in one devastatingly handsome package . . . money, fame, and sex appeal.

Thank goodness they'd both moved on with their lives. It would be a wonder if that man even remembered her name, considering the number of women in his life.

Enough! If she wasn't careful, she would be back to recalling the hard strength of his muscular body, his thoughtfulness, and the generous spirit that made him unique.

Back in the day, she had never had to worry about sharing him, because he'd let it be known they'd belonged to each other. Her competition had come not from other coeds but from the NBA. It had all been over for them once the professional basketball league had entered their lives.

No more! Asking about Scott had been a huge mistake. Maybe Laura and Sherri Ann were right. Perhaps it was time for her to stop the casual dates and get serious about finding a new man.

Taylor said candidly, “I know I shouldn't say this, but I'm still disappointed that things didn't work out for you and Scott. You were so good for him, Jenna.”

Jenna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Let's not go there. What Scott and I had belongs in the past. Thank goodness we've both gotten over it and gone on with our lives.”

“I understand. Wouldn't it be great if you two could end up being friends, though? Scott has moved back to Detroit, too, and he'll be working on finishing his degree in chemistry. He wants to keep the promise he made to our parents.”

“Scott's going to finish at U of D-Mercy?”

Taylor beamed. “Yes. You might even run into each other on campus.”

While Jenna's heart sank, she kept her smile firmly in place. “Good for him. I imagine your mother is pleased.”

She wanted to scream. It wasn't fair! He could have finished college anywhere. Why did he have to come back now? She didn't want to have to look over her shoulder, afraid of running into her ex everywhere she went on campus. What a nightmare!

Taylor went on to say, “You aren't wearing an engagement or wedding ring. Are you seeing someone special?”

Jenna hadn't recovered from the news that Scott was in Detroit. It took her a moment to switch subjects. She laughed, saying, “I've only been back in Detroit a few weeks. Give me a little time.”

“There are men in New York, you know. I'm sorry, Jenna! It's none of my business.” Taylor squeezed her hand. “But I want you to have the same kind of happiness that Donald and I share.” It was evident from the contented smile on her face that they were still very much in love.

Knowing she couldn't take much more of this trip down memory lane, Jenna glanced at her wristwatch. “Taylor, it has been great seeing you again. But I'm afraid I have to go.” She leaned over and kissed the baby's forehead. “Take care of this precious baby girl. She is beautiful, just like her mama.”

Taylor reached into her generous tote bag and pulled out a small notepad and pen. “Don't rush off until you give me your number.”

“Of course,” Jenna murmured as she quickly jotted down her number and took Taylor's. Then she kissed Taylor's cheek, grabbed her shopping bags, and hurried away, waving good-bye.

S
cott Hendricks was not sure which had awakened him—the pounding in his head or the bitterness of his sour stomach. He groaned. After he managed to open and focus his bloodshot eyes, he realized that it was the banging on his front door, not the pounding in his head, that was the source of the offense.

He swore heatedly, then wished he hadn't bothered. The sound of his own voice made his head hurt even more. One glance around the room confirmed that he hadn't made it to bed last night. Evidently, he'd fallen asleep in the recliner in the den.

Realizing that the noise wasn't going to stop until he did something about it, he dragged himself to his feet to lumber down the hall of the large six-bedroom house.

“Shut up that fuss!” he yelled, then winced in pain. After disengaging the alarm, then the lock, he yanked the front door open. He glared down from his six-feet-eight-inch height at his older sister. “What are you doing here at this time of the morning?”

“Hello, little brother,” Taylor frowned at him.

Scott squinted from the bright sunlight. “Don't you have a family to bother?” Not waiting for an answer, he padded on bare feet along the hardwood flooring back toward the den, where he spent most of his time. It was one of the three rooms that had been furnished in the large house; the others were the master bedroom and the kitchen. He fought the urge to cradle his aching head in his hands, knowing it wouldn't help.

After pushing the door closed, Taylor struggled with three grocery bags as she followed her brother toward the back of the gorgeous, but nearly empty, home. “Did you say morning? It is one thirty in the afternoon, Scott Hendricks. What's wrong, little brother? Head hurt? Good! It serves you right for drinking like there is no tomorrow,” she snapped unsympathetically.

One look in the den told Taylor all she needed to know. “You're a cheap drunk,” she accused, scanning the empty imported beer bottles on every available surface. “This has got to stop!” she yelled. “It looks as if you didn't even bother to go to bed last night.” Then she switched to pleading. “Scott, what's wrong? You've been going downhill ever since you moved back. Why are you throwing your life away like this?”

“If you came over here to preach, go home,” he tossed at her as he made his way toward the master suite on the east side of the house.

She yelled, “I'm not going anywhere until I've talked some sense into you!”

“You don't have to buy my groceries. I do know my way to the store.”

“Really? My guess is, you don't have a thing in that refrigerator other than beer.”

“Go home,” he said, slamming his bedroom door behind him. He swore beneath his breath but heard her say that she was putting on some coffee, and he'd better drink it.

Scott's head hurt so bad he could hardly think. Judging by the determination in his sister's voice, he knew she wasn't going anywhere until they'd talked.

He grumbled aloud, “Maybe she'd make herself useful and throw a couple eggs in the skillet.”

He didn't bother to glance around his large, disheveled bedroom. Instead he headed to the bathroom. He stripped down and flung his faded jeans and old U of D-Mercy T-shirt onto the growing pile of dirty clothes beside the full hamper. He was grateful when he found a clean bath towel in the nearly empty linen closet.

The impressive, nearly empty house was a mess, and it suited him just fine. It fit his current lifestyle. After emptying his bladder, he walked into the oversized marble shower stall. He grunted with appreciation when the multi-head feature sent hot water pounding full blast over his tired, aching body. It felt good. He released a sigh as the water soothed the pain in his head and joints. He felt closer to eighty than his thirty years.

“Why can't she stay out of it?” he grumbled aloud, knowing exactly what to expect from his older sister. Taylor was used to taking care of him. But she wasn't going to let it go. What could he say?

He had no excuse for abusing his body this way. Rather than deal with what was bothering him, he'd tried to drown in a tidal wave of imported beer. Talk about stupid! Yeah, he'd known it would be hard, but he hadn't realized just how bad it would be until he'd made the colossal mistake of moving back to his hometown.

Nearly eleven years . . . a long time. He hadn't even seen it coming when he'd sold his house in L.A. He had enough female friends to distract and keep him occupied, so there were no seemingly endless nights. During the past ten years he only came back for public appearances or basketball clinics during the summers for the kids. A quick few days. There had been no reason to return until his father had died and his family had moved back to the area two years ago. Losing his father had forced him to think about the importance of keeping his word. The time was right.

Now that he was back, his life was falling apart, and his big sister wanted to talk about his problem. She acted as if it could be patched with a kiss and a Band-Aid. Unfortunately, he didn't fully understand what was causing him so much pain.

What was he doing? When had he lost control? Why did he feel as if he'd been run over by a freight train? What in the hell was there to talk about?

He was supposed to be happy! He'd done every single thing he had set out to do. He was retired with more money than he would ever need or want, but most important, he had quit the game he loved while he'd been at the top. He'd gone out a champion. Sure, he had his share of aches and pains, but nothing serious.

From the first, he'd been surprisingly good at both making money and hanging onto it. He'd invested wisely, including putting money into his brother-in-law's business. That investment had turned out to be highly profitable without his having to show his face. Despite the economy, his business interests were doing extremely well. Life was supposed to be good.

Ten years and he still hadn't fulfilled the promise he'd made to his family when he'd signed with the Charlotte Hornets. He hadn't finished what he started, hadn't gotten his degree. It was something he'd always intended to do, and he'd worked toward it during the off-seasons. He was close, only five classes away. He could do it in a year. For sentimental reasons, he'd let his family talk him into returning home and going to U of D-Mercy. His old stomping ground.

Why was being back causing him such problems? He'd gotten over the breakup years ago. Yet since his return, the memories of that failed relationship bombarded him, consuming his daylight hours and entering his dreams. He'd tried, but he couldn't forget what he'd lost when he'd packed his bags and left Detroit.

For so long pro basketball hadn't been just an occupation to him; it was how he had defined himself. Even his dreams of owning his own pharmaceutical company had paled as his basketball career had soared straight to the top. He had been good. He had been named MVP and had an NBA championship ring to prove it.

He'd started as one of the top draft picks at twenty, instinctively knowing it was where he'd belonged. He had no regrets about his choices. When he'd quit college, he hadn't meant to disappoint anyone—certainly not his parents or Taylor. It was his life, his choice.

What he hated was the effect that decision had had on his personal life. It had shattered a future he'd believed was rock solid. The past was what had been haunting him last night, what had him drinking nearly every night since he'd settled in.

A half hour later, he joined his sister in the sunny kitchen. He wasn't surprised to see that she had loaded and started the dishwasher or cleaned the table and granite countertops of the spacious kitchen.

Taylor was nothing if not efficient. She kept her own home running smoothly. Donald was a very lucky man. He had also retired from the game, but Donald had it all. He had two beautiful children and a woman he loved and knew was in love with him, not his bank balance.

Scott had never had that assurance. Well, that was not exactly true. There was a time in his life when he'd known without a doubt that one special woman had loved him—the man and not the basketball star. Unfortunately, it had ended badly.

These days, the women who ran him down were more interested in what he could provide than in what he thought and felt—or even what type of man he'd become. It was okay with him, since marriage was no longer a priority.

“Good, you made coffee,” Scott said as he filled a white mug with black coffee. He dropped heavily into one of the chairs positioned around an oak table that sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a spacious backyard and a lake beyond.

“What's with all the drinking? It's not like you. What's wrong?” Taylor asked from where she cracked eggs into a mixing bowl at the center island.