Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion) (11 page)

Just in the short time they had talked, Trey had decided he would opt for pool boy himself over living with Carlos Romero.
But I have a job to do, so I’ll put my dislike for the man aside and do it. How to do it, though—that’s the question.

I could make an appointment and fake some kind of mental disorder, but then I’d be limited to a professional/patient relationship and I don’t want that. She’d never open up to me then. Got to meet her some other way.

He had already reserved a room at Nashville’s downtown Sheridan Hotel, which, according to MapQuest, was fairly close to Saradon’s office.

Maybe, if I observe her long enough, I can manage to meet her socially. Since she’s single, I assume she’ll eat out occasionally or have an after-hours drink with her friends. So an accidental meeting wouldn’t be that farfetched.

And there were always her associates he could buddy up to and get info from, he reasoned, as soon as he discovered who they were. To that end, Trey hoped she had her suite of offices in a building that housed several other offices and therefore people with whom she hobnobbed.

His growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since breakfast. With his mind suddenly on food, Trey hoped Kayla Saradon liked expensive menus, since he was on an unlimited budget and would really enjoy a choice prime rib at whatever fancy restaurant she might choose on Romero’s tab.

Hell, even if she didn’t, he could pretend she did and he followed her there. Dr. Romero will never know the difference. With an exhaled breath, Trey silently nixed that idea. His conscience wouldn’t let him do that. He had never padded a bill in his career and he wasn’t about to start now, not even to stick it to a creep like Romero.

His bag rolling into sight brought Trey back to the present. He tucked his laptop satchel under his arm and snagged the larger bag, extended the pull, then headed for the car rental booth, to the disappointment of the ladies who had failed to catch his eye.

On the ride to the Sheridan Hotel, Trey continued to try and think of the best way of meeting Kayla Saradon. Then it dawned on him. He could pretend to be a reporter from one of the major health magazines, wanting to do a story on her.

What woman can resist that kind of professional flattery?

He had brought several false IDs with him, just in case. Having decided to use the alias Devon Walker, he phoned the office and told the secretary that if she got a call on his private line, which only she was authorized to answer when he was away, she was to verify it was Devon Walker’s office and he was a freelance reporter with
Your Health Today
magazine.

“Sounds like an interesting case you’re on, Trey.”

“It could turn out to be, Sarah. So don’t blow it for me.”

“I’ll be the soul of discretion,
Mr. Walker
.”

“You’re a peach.”

“So you’ve said before. Anytime you wanta take a juicy nibble, let me know,” she teased.

Trey laughed. They had that semi-sexual running joke between them, Sarah being several years older than he but young enough to remember the titillation of innocent flirting, and with a sometimes ribald sense of humor much needed in the staid atmosphere of M. J. and L.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, gorgeous.”

He hung up as he proceeded to the hotel’s underground parking. All the parking spaces near the elevators on the main parking level were taken, so he had to park at the lower level, at the end toward the back.

Cursing his luck, Trey retrieved his luggage from the trunk. Shouldering the laptop satchel strap, he gripped the carry-on with his left hand as he extended the pull handle of the heavier piece of luggage with his right. With a weary sigh, he began the long trek toward the elevator.

CHAPTER 12

Tuesday morning—The meeting

Kayla relaxed in her chair, smiling to herself, remembering her wonderful night with Harm—the massage, the fantastic foreplay, the slow and tantalizing sex that had left her comfortably drained and completely satisfied. But now to the order of the day. With a sigh, she sat up straighter and buzzed her secretary.

“Send in my first appointment please, Amelia.”

“She hasn’t arrived yet, Doctor. But there is someone here to see you. A reporter. A Mr. Devon Walker, from
Your Health Today
magazine. Shall I show him in?”

“I wasn’t expecting a reporter.”

“He said he knows he doesn’t have an appointment, but would you please just give him a moment?”

“All right, send him in.”

Trey entered, turning to thank the secretary before she closed the door. He stood, politely waiting for an invitation to sit from Kayla Saradon. While he waited, and their eyes held, Trey got his first impression of the woman. And it was quite an impression.

She was nothing like what he’d imagined—not hard or gritty or calculating. She was, in fact, the total opposite. Soft, feminine, and yet exuding a subtle strength that he concluded probably put her patients at ease. It was obvious to him she was determined to disguise her natural beauty with the severe hairdo and the loosely fitted suit. But she hadn’t succeeded. He was shocked at the way she seemed to emanate sensuality. The kind that is so deeply engrained, it can’t be muted, no matter the effort.

Kayla Saradon was, to say the least, the most striking woman he had seen in a long time, with the most compelling green eyes that she now turned on him in an inquisitive stare.

Trey immediately understood the pull she might influence over a nineteen-year-old boy, if indeed she had.

Hell, I feel it myself. I’d be her pool boy if she asked.

Out loud he said, “I appreciate your taking the time to see me, Dr. Saradon.”

“I don’t have that much time, I’m afraid. Won’t you be seated, Mr. Walker?”

He sat down across from her desk, offering a smile, which she returned, but just barely.

“You say you’re from
Your Health Today
?”

“Yes. I’d like to do a story on you.”

“On me? Or my work?”

“Actually, on you personally. The woman behind the work, so to speak.”

“And do you have a business card, Mr. Walker?”

“Certainly.”

Trey handed her one of his bogus cards and watched her eye it critically before lifting those astonishing eyes back to him.

“Sorry to tell you this, but I don’t do personal interviews of that sort, Mr. Walker. By that I mean I do not wish my personal life to be an issue when other people’s mental health should be. I consider myself simply a conduit for my patients.”

“I understand. That’s admirable of you. But your admirers would like to get to know the famous Dr. Saradon in a personal way.”

“Famous? I hardly think that’s the case. I certainly don’t warrant that kind of attention, nor do I wish it. I consider the work I do important, and that is what I would like to advertise—for want of a better word. Not myself.”

Trey could feel the personal interview angle slipping downhill fast. He decided to change tactics. “I’ll be honest with you, Dr. Saradon.”

With raised eyebrows, she said pithily, “That would be nice. What have you
not
been honest about, Mr. Walker?”

Trey was impressed with the way she cut to the chase. He decided she was probably an excellent psychiatrist. “It isn’t that I haven’t been honest exactly, I just haven’t been as forthcoming as I suppose I should have been.”

“You definitely have my attention. Proceed.”

“You see, I’m a freelance reporter and this is my first assignment with
Your Health Today
, a kind of test if you will, and if I don’t get some kind of personal interview, I’m afraid any future assignments will be out of the question. I hate sounding needy, but I sure would appreciate some kind of literary bone tossed my way.”

“I see. Well, I certainly don’t wish you to lose your connection there, Mr. Walker. But other than what I’m sure you already know, statistically speaking, because I’m sure you’ve done your homework, I don’t know what I can tell you.”

“Just to be able to quote you would help—like on your marital status or possible marriage plans for the future. Whether or not you’d like to have children one day. Or your long-range goals in terms of your profession. Whether or not you’ve always lived in Nashville or have plans to move later, much later, when you retire.”

“You seem to have covered every aspect of exactly what I do not care to share, Mr. Walker, other than the obvious. I am not married and never have been. I love what I do, helping people to sort out the difficulties in their lives, and shall continue to do so until I do retire, which I do not foresee in the near future. I have no plans to move away from Nashville, which has always been my home.”

“Is that all?”

“I think I answered all your questions.”

“Are you involved in a relationship now?”

“That’s too personal, Mr. Walker.”

“Sorry. It’s just—well—you are such a beautiful woman, I can’t believe some guy hasn’t claimed you as his own.”

“Claimed me?” she asked, sounding incensed.

Trey, you fool! Bad choice of words.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Trey felt tongue-tied in a woman’s presence. Kayla Saradon was impressively overpowering, more so than any woman he had ever known. He couldn’t get over those mesmerizing green eyes that were, in this moment, shooting laser beams at him, definitely cutting him down to size.

“I—ah—I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he stammered, trying to erase the irritated frown from her face.

“How did you mean it? I am not and never will be some man’s property, to be claimed, Mr. Walker! Now there is a quote you can use.”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. Guess I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Think fool! How can I rectify this?

“I—ah—am used to writing fill-in articles and, like I said, this is my first interview. Probably my last, if you report my gross
faux pas
, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Though it went against his grain, Trey tried to sound contrite and pitiful, swallowing hard as though he were seeing his future go down the drain. He watched her expression change from annoyance to amusement. Finally a smile broke through.

And damn, what a smile! God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles.

“Relax Mr. Walker. I don’t bite.”

But you can if you want to,
Trey thought as he returned the smile sheepishly
. In fact, I would insist on it, if you gave me the chance.

“I’m obviously a lousy interviewer.”

“Everyone is nervous the first day on the job, which is what a first interview is like. I understand, and I’d like to apologize for being so abrupt.”

“Maybe we could start over. You could call me Devon instead of Mr. Walker.”

She nodded. “All right, Devon. And you may call me Kayla. So far as the personal interview goes, I really don’t have any more time this morning. I’m sure my appointment is about to arrive, or probably already has.”

“Perhaps we could meet after work for a drink and a more relaxed conversation?” Trey asked, remembering to try and look pathetically hopeful.

“I’m afraid I can’t this afternoon. Or any afternoon this week. Perhaps we could arrange to meet briefly on Saturday. Saturday is more or less a free day for me. Are you staying nearby?”

“At the downtown Sheridan.”

“Can you stay in town that long, or are you on a deadline and have to rush back?”

“I can stay.”

“Good. Shall we meet Saturday afternoon then, at the Sheridan?”

“That would be perfect. We could have lunch and talk.”

“If you’ll leave me your room number, I’ll ring you when I arrive and we can meet in the lobby. How does that sound? It will probably be around one o’clock.”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you for giving me another chance—Kayla,” Trey hesitated over her first name, as though he was doubtful of using it and thankful she had agreed to allow him that privilege.

Again, she blessed him with that radiant smile as he wrote his room number down, handed it to her, then stood and extended his hand.

She put her much smaller one in it, and Trey was amazed that he felt like he’d been branded. That hot touch skittered all the way down to his crotch and threatened to embarrass him. He suddenly had to fight the urge to pull her across the space that separated them and taste those luscious lips. So he made a hasty exit.

Kayla Saradon is definitely a woman to be reckoned with. I can only imagine how effective she is with her patients. The question is, how effective is she with nineteen-year-old J.J. Romero?

As he left her office, Trey exhaled a deep breath, silently exclaiming,
man, she is something else.
He briefly entertained the thought of trying to get close to her secretary, but she gave him only a cursory glance before returning to her work. He concluded she wouldn’t be receptive to his questioning her, so he ruled that avenue out.

He wondered if maybe some of the other tenants in the building would know her enough to want to share opinions. But how to go about asking without arousing suspicion, that was the key.

As he exited the building, he saw a professionally dressed, middle-aged woman leaning against the side of the building near the entrance, looking bored and smoking a cigarette. She held a small, portable ashtray for her ashes.

Smiling he said, “Aggravating when you work in a no-smoking building, huh?”

She gave him a quick once-over before answering, “Sure is. Pretty soon they’ll probably ban smoking on the outside, too.”

“Say, ah, don’t you work for the dentist on the second floor?” He asked, taking a stab in the dark that there even was a dentist in the building.

“No. I work for the neurologist, Dr. Robinson, on the first floor.”

Trey remembered seeing the sign. “Oh, sorry. Your office is right across the hall from Dr. Saradon’s then.”