Any Man I Want (19 page)

“You think I should go simple?” I wondered if I was going too over-the-top.

“Katrina doesn't even wear simple T-shirts.” Madere smiled fondly. “She's been a bigger-than-life girly-girl from day one. Always with the glitter and the sparkles and the colors.
Mon ange
is a peacock, not a pigeon.”

“Um-hmm, that's true. And this one”—my grandfather pointed his thumb at me—“has always liked fine things. Expensive taste, even when we could only look at them through the window. Worked his fingers to the bone to be able to do more than look. Check my boy out now; settling down, making commitments, buying pink diamonds.” He eyed me in speculation. “Listen son, just how rich are you exactly?”

“Gramps!” I shook my head. “Don't worry about it. You don't have to move in with me and Christmas isn't canceled.”

Madere assessed me. “I'm wondering myself. How many buildings you own exactly, handsome?” She plopped a hand on one hip.

I was saved from answering by Alton stepping back in the room. He discreetly handed me a leather folder. I opened it and looked at the total before signing and returning it to him. He passed me a medium-sized bag and a small square box. I took them both and smiled at Madere. “Alanna Montgomery, a token of my esteem.” I handed her the black velvet box.

“What did you do?” She opened the lid and gasped at the pink diamond solitaire earrings nestled inside. When she looked up at me, I had an image of the beautiful woman Katrina would be when she got older. And I couldn't wait. “You can't—it's too much,” she protested, fingering the small gems as they winked up at her.

“Woman, put those rocks in your ears so I can go get my lemon square and my nap. When my boy gives, he gives from the heart,” Gramps harrumphed and gave me an approving glance.

“Oh, Collin,” she scolded, quickly taking off her hoop earrings and replacing them with the studs. She checked herself out in the mirror, moving her head from one angle to another, catching the light. “I shouldn't accept, I really shouldn't . . . but I'm going to.” She kissed me again. “You're such a blessing.”

“See that, Gramps—I'm a blessing.” I nudged him as we headed out of the offices.

“Equal part curse, if you ask me,” he grumbled, but dropped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

“Nobody asked you, Collin,” Madere told him, stopping to admire her earrings once more in the car window. She tucked her long hair behind her ears and grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

“Get in the car, Alanna, and maybe they'll name my first great-granddaughter after you.”

“You're just grumpy he didn't get you anything.”

“What you mean? He's getting me a fancy new granddaughter. She's going to be Katrina Parks.”

“How do you know she'll go by Parks?” Alanna challenged.

“And why wouldn't she? Parks is a fine name and much shorter than Montgomery,” Gramps argued.

“I'm just saying that my daughter goes by a professional name. She can call herself Montgomery or Parks or purple flying squirrel—I don't care as long as she marries the boy and soon,” Alanna sassed.

“She marries my boy she's going to be a Parks.” Gramps nodded as if the subject was closed.

I stayed out of it. When the two of them got to bickering like this there was nothing to do but stay out of the way and let them fight it out. Though I had to admit, the sound of “Katrina Parks” had a nice ring to it. But I did not want to encourage them. We had just bought the ring and they had me married with children already. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Katrina—Friday, July 23—10:57 a.m.

 

 

I
was thirty years old today. Thirty. Years. Old. The big 3-0. Officially past the age where you got to do stupid things and chalk it up to youth. Time to put away childish things and all that. Time flies when you're having fun or working so hard that it seems like fun. Whatever. Time flies. Six months ago, I would have been all up in my feelings about turning thirty. But looking around my office, looking and feeling good in a striped pink-and-white pantsuit I had designed, knowing that I had friends, family, and a man who loved me? I had nothing to complain about—not one thing.

Kevin Delancey and Renee Nightingale had taken their best shot and I was still here. Still standing. Better than ever before, actually. I wouldn't say they did me a favor, but . . . I couldn't complain about the way it all turned out. For me, anyway.

“Delivery for Katrina Montgomery,” a young guy carrying a huge bouquet of roses announced.

“I'm Katrina Montgomery.” I waved.

He looked around the bouquet and his jaw dropped. “Cajun Kat. You are hotter in person than on the Internet,” he whispered in awe.

“Oh well... thank you.” I flashed my professional smile and came forward to get the flowers. I set them on the corner of my desk and since he looked so damned happy to meet me, I reached in a drawer and pulled out an 8 x 10 glossy of me in a bikini top and jeans. Signing it with a flourish, I kissed the picture below my signature and handed it to him.

“Hey! That's awesome. I'm going to put this up in my bedroom!” I tried not to wince at the thought of that. God only knew what that picture would bear witness to. He motioned toward my table. “You might want to make more room on that desk and that table. There are a lot more flowers coming, Miss Kat.” A stream of delivery people with roses filed in. Belle sauntered in behind them and looked around.

“Somebody loves you,” she singsonged.

“The man is crazy!” I exclaimed as the last set of roses appeared in my office. Flowers covered every available surface and overflowed into the hallway.

“How many is that?” Belle asked with wide eyes.

I twirled around the room, counting. “Thirty dozen. One dozen for every year. All in different colors. Did you know there were this many different shades of roses?”

Belle shook her head in amazement. “I did not. That Big Sexy is something else.”

“You know what?” I said. “I don't think he should be Big Sexy anymore. He's Carter Evan Parks.” I didn't want Carter marginalized. This was a grown man, my man. He was big and sexy to me, not the rest of the world.

“Well all right, then.” She looked over my shoulder. “Here he comes now. Mr. Parks, I presume.”

Carter was in a light gray summer-weight suit with a pale pink shirt and striped tie. He looked good enough to eat. He strolled in, a man completely as ease with himself; greeting everyone he passed. And the best part? He was all mine. He stopped and raised Belle's hands to his lips. “Mrs. Montgomery, looking lovely as ever. Why so formal?”

“Princess here says you are forevermore and henceforth to be known by your Christian and given name. No more Big Sexy for you.”

He glanced over at me. “Oh, yeah? Problem, diva?”

“You can be Big Sexy to me,” I declared and settled my hands on my hips in challenge.

“And you only, huh?” he asked, sliding up next to me.

“Exactly. Me only. Really, who else do you need?” I smiled into his eyes.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and dropped a kiss on my lips. “Fine by me. Happy birthday, Kit-Kat.”

“Thanks, babe. These flowers are gorgeous.” I kissed him back.

“Not as gorgeous as you.” He wrapped his second arm around me and leaned in. I snuggled in with a contented smile. He was so damned charming. And did I mention mine, mine, mine?

I asked Belle, “Isn't he charming?”

“For sure, sugar. If y'all gonna be all smooch-smoochy, I'll just excuse myself.” She stepped out of the office. “Has anyone seen my charming husband?”

“Eh,
ma femme
, I'm right here trying to work my way through the enchanted forest. What level of besotted, over-the-top, setting-a-bad-precedent-for-men-everywhere foolishness is this?” He strode to the door and viewed my office. “I should've known you were behind this, Se—”

Belle put her hand over his mouth. “His name is Carter.”

“I know that,” Beau muttered behind her fingers, giving his wife a strange look.

“Only Carter. Or CP. Or Mr. Parks,” I reiterated.

“
Mr. Parks?
” he said, snickering.

“You gotta problem with that?” I squinted at him.

Beau put his hands up in surrender. “Big Sexy is dead. Long live Mr. Parks.” He reached out a hand to Carter. Carter took it and pulled him in for one of those man hugs where they pat each other on the back or whatever. “It's been a long time since we were the Pontchartrain poonhounds, eh
mon ami
?”

“Oooo, you had to bring it up, sugar?” Belle shook her head.

“For real,” I scolded, “we could just let those sleeping dogs lie.”

Carter asked, “Sleeping dogs, though, Kitty?”

“They didn't call you the Pontchartrain priests, now, did they?” I quirked a brow in his direction.

Beau waved that away. “Aw, sis, the past is the past.”

Carter smirked and nodded without saying another word. Maybe one day I'd get him to share one of his tales from his wild days. Then again, did I really want to know? I actually didn't care who he used to be. The person who he was now was absolutely perfect for me. He caught me staring at him and with a final slap on Beau's shoulder, he reached out and grabbed my hand.

“You ready to get out of here for the rest of the day, lovely?” he inquired.

I was more than ready to go. I wasn't even sure why I hadn't taken the day off. “What about all the flowers? I don't want to leave them here.”

He shrugged. “These are for your office; you've got the same at home.”

“You are spoiling me.” I beamed.

“Don't act like you don't love it,” he teased.

“I do love it. I love you,” I cooed and leaned in for a kiss.

Beau grimaced. “Ugh. No. Please get out of here, the both of you. Happy Birthday,
ma petite souer
. We'll see you later.”

“Not tonight,” Carter stated firmly.

“Mr. Parks has spoken,” I announced. I grabbed my purse and laptop case. We headed out, calling out to everyone that I would see them tomorrow night at the party. Amid birthday salutations, I sailed out with my man.

 

 

We made great time getting back to the house. The flowers were everywhere. Even though people teased me and called me a princess—honestly, with the exception of my father, I'd never had a man treat me this well. Never, not a one of them. I wanted Carter to know that as much as I appreciated every grand gesture, I didn't have to have it to love him.

We set down our cases and phones and keys. He threaded his fingers with mine and tugged me toward the stairs. “Come up with me.”

“In a sec,” I told him and instead tugged him toward the couch. He sat in the corner and I curled up next to him. “Carter, I want to tell you something,” I said in a grave tone.

“Am I in trouble?” He met my eyes.

“No, why—did you do something to get in trouble?”

He snorted. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“Yeah. I love the things you do for me. The grand gestures. I love your life. Our life. The house, the cars, the villa in Punta Cana, the earrings for my mom—I love all of that.”

“Good.” He nodded.

“But I don't need it,” I stated firmly.

He looked confused. “You don't want it?”

“Listen to me, C—I said I don't
need
it. I just want you. If we go broke tomorrow and have to move in with Beau and Belle—”

“Woman, bite your tongue,” he interrupted. “Have you lived with Beau? He's a slob!”

“That he is, but on the good side, he's an amazing cook,” I rationalized.

“You're an amazing cook. I grill things. We'd survive.”

“I'm just saying. For me, it's not about what you can do for me that way. I don't want you to think that I need furs and shoes and pearls to be happy. I like those things, true—”

He coughed discreetly.

“Okay, fine,” I raised my foot, clad in a pink patent stiletto with a red bottom. They were lovely, I had to admit. “I love expensive shoes, I cannot lie. But if I had to choose between giving up all my shoes and giving up you? I'm keeping you.”

“Whoa. That is serious talk from a shoe addict. I'm flattered.”

“Right?” I snickered. “The deepest declaration I can make.”

“Kinda sexy. But here's the thing.” His tone went serious. “I can easily afford it. If I couldn't, I wouldn't do these things. You'd get a single rose and a handwritten poem.”

“You write poetry?” It seemed I learn something new about him every day. Life with Carter Parks was never boring. When was the last time I could say that?

“I've been known to put pen to paper a time or two,” he admitted.

“What's a girl gotta do to earn a poem from Carter Parks?” I wondered.

“Keep living right and you'll find out,” he teased.

“Is that a challenge?” I gazed at him through my lashes.

“Baby, that's a guarantee.”

“Poetry by Parks. Now, that's sexy.”

“Oh, I keeps it sexy. No matter what you call me.”

“Are you going to miss being called Big Sexy?”

“Not really.” He smirked. “As long as I still hear it from you, that's all that matters.”

“You can count on that.”

He turned serious for a moment. “I like how we live and I worked hard to get here, so I'm not going to apologize for it. If I do too much, just reign me in.”

The few times I had tried to put Carter in check had not worked out well for me. “When has anyone ever reigned you in?”

He shrugged. “You could if you wanted to, but you like me this way.”

“Bold, audacious, arrogant, and over-the-top?” On any other man I would find these traits irritating, but for some reason they worked with Carter.

“I see that and raise you. You can be fancy, fickle, funny, and forceful.”

“I am fancy.”

“Speaking of fancy . . .” Carter pulled a small, wrapped box out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “Tell me if these tickle yours.”

I ripped the paper open and found a long, skinny jeweler's box. Squealing with delight, I opened the box and found the black velvet box inside. Popping up the hinges, I saw the most beautiful bracelet I'd ever seen. It was a tennis bracelet with pink diamonds and blue and green stones interspersed, set in sparkling platinum. “Oh my God, this is gorgeous! This is what you picked out with Madere and Gramps! I can now admit I was so jealous of Madere's earrings, but this more than makes up for them.” I snapped the bracelet on my wrist and held it up to the light. Gorgeous!

Carter handed me a second box. “No, that was a gift of your own.
This
makes up for them.”

“You didn't!” I ripped open the packaging to find the matching dangly earrings.

“Oh, but I did.” He grinned.

“So apparently you like me fancy.” He helped me put on the new earrings.

“Indeed I do.” He traced his hand down my calf to my ankle. “Furthermore, I like those fancy shoes.”

“Before you get all birthday sexy on me, I just want to be clear. For the record, Carter Parks. You are sufficient. Just being with you is the cake; all the rest of this is frosting and sprinkles and sparklers.”

His grin widened. “Ni-ice. So, uh . . . there are two masseurs upstairs in the guest room waiting to give us a couples' massage. Is that too grand of a gesture?”

“It's a beautiful gesture and normally I'd say let's do this. But right now I'd rather you sent them away and we gave each other a couples' massage for the rest of the afternoon. You are about to get so damn lucky.”

“I like how you think. I also had a chef coming at seven to cook for us.”

I nodded. “Nice touch. Instead, tell him to cook it where he is and have someone drop it off around eight.”

“And then I was taking you dancing,” he continued.

“You can spin me around the pool deck before midnight and we'll call it a perfect birthday all the way around.”

“You're easily satisfied,” he murmured, grazing his lips against my forehead.

“No, I'm not, but all I need today is you,” I answered simply.

“I do love you,” he sighed.

“That's handy, cause I love you right back.”

“Happy birthday, Kitty.”

“Best one yet.”

“Many more to come.” He squeezed my hands.

“I'll send the masseurs packing, you call the chef.” I hopped up off the couch.

He smacked my rear as I went by. “And then meet me in the bedroom wearing nothing but those shoes.”

“Ooo.” I shivered just thinking about it. “This is going to be a
very
happy birthday.”

“Bet your fine ass it is.”