Bachelor Unclaimed (12 page)

“Anything other than hip-hop.”

“Well, those CDs were in a closet in the bedroom you let me use. If they aren’t yours, then whose are they?”

“Evan’s.”

She lifted a brow. “Who is Evan?”

“My brother.”

“Evan Coltrane... Now where do I recall that name?” Her face then lit in an I-don’t-believe-it expression. “Your brother is Evan Coltrane? The Evan Coltrane who used to play for the—”

“Yes,” he said quickly. There was no need to let her go through the entire spiel. Evan’s reputation as an outstanding player in the NFL preceded him. And before she slipped into her nosy-reporter mode and began asking questions about Evan, he said, “The interview can start tomorrow morning and hopefully you’ll be through by noon,” he said, heading into the kitchen.

“Don’t count on it.”

He stopped and turned toward her, certain he hadn’t heard her right. “Excuse me?”

“I said don’t count on the interview being over by noon tomorrow. In fact, I’m looking at it taking a good week at the most. Possibly two.”

“What? Why would it take that much time to interview me?”

A smile curved her lips. “Because I see that you’re a very complex man and I need time to delve deep into your persona.”

Delve deep into his persona? Who did she think she was? Dr. Phil?

“In other words, Winston, I want to know what makes you happiest.”

He leaned back against a wall, held her gaze, felt a deep throbbing in his gut. “Sex makes me happiest,” he said bluntly.

She narrowed her gaze. “When it pertains to your work,” she clarified.

He shrugged. “Sex still makes me happiest, which is why I study the mating habits of sea life and have come up with a way where it can benefit humans.”

“Then I can’t help but find your work interesting.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Come up with a list of questions and I’ll highlight those I plan to answer.”

“That’s not the way I conduct an interview” was her brisk reply.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “Sorry, but that’s the way you’ll conduct mine.”

Chapter 14

A
few hours later, Ainsley glanced across the kitchen table at Winston. Once again he had prepared an outstanding meal, a pan of something he called low-country boil—that consisted of white potatoes, sausage, corn on the cob, crab meat and shrimp—all seasoned to taste, along with red rice, corn bread and collard greens.

She had offered to help but he’d turned her down again, saying he preferred working in his kitchen alone. So she had let him. Instead she had spent her time reading the information Charley had sent over her iPhone. It hadn’t been a whole lot but what she’d read had been pretty interesting. His educational background was impressive and the fact that, at a young age, he had been a top marine biologist at the world’s largest research-based pharmaceutical company. He had worked there for almost five years before resigning from a top-level position. She couldn’t help wondering why, since he’d made a whole lot of money working there.

Another thing she found interesting, in fact rather fascinating, was that he had five godbrothers and was close to all of them. She had a godsister named Emily somewhere, but hadn’t seen or talked to her in years. But from what she’d read, Winston and his godbrothers stayed in touch.

“You’re quiet.”

She waited until she was through chewing her food to reply. “You actually want to hear me talk?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to being here alone so the silence doesn’t bother me. Usually I prefer it. But I have a feeling you’re not used to not having anything to say so I’ll make the sacrifice.”

Ainsley took a sip of her wine cooler, which seemed most appropriate with their meal. “Are you trying to say in a roundabout way that I talk too much?”

He grinned. “No. In fact when you’re not being nosy or persistent about something, I noticed you’re a woman of few words.”

Ainsley would have to agree with that. Some people were talkers and others observers. She did both when it suited her, preferably more observing. But since he brought it up...

“There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you,” she said.

He held her gaze. “What things?”

“First of all, tell me about your five godbrothers.”

His hand went still, holding his fork in midair. He didn’t say anything for a minute. “How do you know about my godbrothers?”

She smiled sweetly. “You’re not the only one who can get information from Charley.”

For a moment he simply sat there and stared at her and then she saw the corners of his lips curve in a smile right before he laughed. “Like I said, you’re persistent. Only thing, my godbrothers are off-limits and won’t be included with the interview.”

Waving off his words, she said, “This is not for the article. I’m asking for my own benefit.”

He lifted a brow. “Why?”

That was a good question. How could she explain that she wanted to know as much about him as she could? She owed it to herself to do so. Okay, she had slept with him countless times when she hadn’t known a lot about him, but there were a number of things she was curious about. “Let’s just say I find them fascinating.”

“You don’t know them.”

“Yes, but the whole idea of a person having five godbrothers is sort of overwhelming.”

Winston didn’t say anything for a moment while he sipped his wine cooler. Yes, he could see how it could be overwhelming to some people, but not to him. He and the five men had been born within twenty-four months of each other, with the exception of Zion who was the baby of the bunch. They had always been close and usually spent summers and holidays together while growing up.

So, okay, if she wanted to hear it, then he would tell her. He began talking, telling her how their fathers, the six best friends from Morehouse, had made a pledge on graduation day, a pledge they had each fulfilled. As expected she had asked her questions—lots of questions—and he thought she was going to topple over in her chair when he mentioned one of his godbrothers was Zion Blackstone, the world famous jewelry designer.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said.

He took another sip of his wine cooler. “My parents moved away three years ago when my maternal grandparents became too much for my mom’s sister to take care of by herself. They are living in Florida.”

“How did your parents meet?” she asked.

“At college in Atlanta. Dad, as I mentioned, attended Morehouse and Mom was at Clark.”

“What about your grandparents?”

He leaned forward over the table. “Maybe it was a mistake to start you to talking.”

She chuckled and waved off his words. “Just answer the question, please.”

He leaned back in his chair after noticing how her thick spiral curls actually fanned around her face. He didn’t care for that particular style on some women, because a lot of them didn’t have the shape of face to wear it. But the style looked good on her. The shape of her face was perfect.

“My grandfather and his father before him and all the other male Coltranes before them were shrimpers. It was a very lucrative business. Shrimps off the coast of Barrett Shores were the biggest and tastiest, and as a result were in high demand by restaurants along the east coast all the way up to Boston.”

She nodded. “So what happened with the shrimp boat business?”

He took another sip of his wine cooler. “My grandfather felt it had run its course and wanted more for my father, who was his only son...and a very smart one at that. So he sent him to Morehouse and the shrimp boat business ended when my grandfather passed away around twenty years ago.”

“So you knew your grandparents?”

“And my great-grandparents as well. Both lived to reach one hundred. Long lives are common in my family,” he said.

“Who taught you how to cook?”

“My grandmother. She was a Gullah and passed her love for cooking down to me. I used to watch her when she worked in this very kitchen, although it’s been remodeled a few times since.”

She pushed aside her plate, got comfortable in her chair and so did he. And the conversation continued. He told her about how his great-grandmother had been a descendant of
Mitchelville,
the first free African American settlement in Hilton Head. He was surprised she had never heard of the historical settlement and spent the next hour enlightening her on South Carolina history.

She helped him load the dishes in the dishwasher and while doing so, she told him about her own ancestor who’d founded Claxton and how he had been a solder in the Union Army. It was the same regiment the movie
Glory
was based on.

By the time they climbed the stairs to go to their own bedrooms, he had to admit he enjoyed her company. He also had to admit he had learned some things about her. Like the fact that becoming mayor of Claxton had been a lifelong dream of hers. Clearly she still carried the pain of that defeat. The townspeople had let her down and the defeat had left her questioning her value and worth to a town she had lived in nearly all her life. It pissed him off the people she thought she knew and could depend on had done that to her.

He glanced over at her. “I need you well-rested tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Well-rested for what?”

“Work. Because of you, I’ve gotten behind and need to get caught up.”

“But what about the start of the interview? The sooner we begin the quicker we’ll be through.”

As they walked side by side, on occasion their shoulders brushed. He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest every time it happened. He stopped walking, deciding his chest needed a break. He turned to her. “That might be true, but I’m working against a deadline.”

She stopped walking as well and lifted her chin. “So am I.”

“And for some reason you assume yours is more important than mine?”

She had the good sense to look away. She was the one who needed the interview, so she was at his mercy. She looked back at him. “May I question you while you work?”

“No. When I work I concentrate on work.” Although he fully expected while she was around, there would be a lot of time that he would be concentrating on her. After all, he was a red-blooded male and she was a woman. Yes, she was definitely a woman.

“Like I said, I suggest you get a good night’s sleep. We work with the sea horses all day. When we get a break, then you can ask your questions.”

With him leading the way, they began walking again. He glanced over at her and said, “And at some point, you’ll need to return to the hotel for more clothes.”

“I think what I have is sufficient.”

“I don’t. If you were interviewing anybody else would you rotate wearing the same thing every few days, even if they were clean?”

“No.”

“Okay then. Besides, I’d like seeing you in a dress at some point.”

She stopped walking. “Why?”

“You have great legs.”

She glared at him. “That’s sexist.”

He chuckled. “No, that’s being truthful.”

They had reached the landing to the second floor. “And this is where we part, since I’m up another floor. I would walk you to your bedroom door but that’s too much temptation. Like I said, tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Good night, Ainsley.”

“Good night.”

She turned and headed toward the guest room she’d been given. He knew she was still somewhat upset with him but, if truth be told, he was slightly upset with her, as well. He was going to be sleeping alone and after a night like last night, he thought that was a damn shame.

“Ainsley?” he called out to her.

She turned around. “What?”

“I suggest you stay in your room and not go moseying around tonight. If you do, busy day or no busy day, I won’t be able to control my primal instincts. Let that serve as a warning.”

“Warning taken,” she said, then turned and kept walking and didn’t look back at him.

Chapter 15

“G
ood morning, Winston. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

Winston’s brow lifted when Ainsley all but breezed into the room, smiling in a way that showed her dimples. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? Probably because when it came to him she rarely smiled. “Good morning. Your breakfast is warming on the stove.”

“Thanks, and here is the list of questions,” she said, placing a sheet of paper on the counter.

He sat there, sipping his coffee in between tugging in deep breaths while he watched her move around the kitchen, filling her plate and opening his refrigerator to grab a carton of orange juice. Why was she in such a good mood? Hell, he certainly didn’t have anything to smile about. He had gotten very little sleep last night. Instead, he had lain awake, flat on his back while staring up at the ceiling remembering all the things he had done to his houseguest the night before. He’d thought putting her on the second floor was the ideal solution. But her scent had managed to penetrate all the way up to the third floor.

“You had to get up early in order to cook all of this,” she said, joining him at the table. Instead of answering, he intentionally grunted. Maybe she would get the hint that he wasn’t in a talkative mood.

“I woke up to the sound of the ocean and opened all the windows. It was wonderful. I envy you being able to do that. In New York...”

She continued to chatter away and he wondered what was going on with her. This was the most talkative she’d ever been around him. “Excuse me,” he interrupted her.

She glanced over at him. “Yes?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He knew her mind was probably struggling with the meaning behind his question, so he elaborated. “Why are you so mouthy this morning?”

She lifted her chin. “Just trying to be friendly.”

“Don’t bother.”

She stared at him as she took a sip of her juice. “Evidently you got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“And evidently you got up on the right side,” he said curtly.

Ainsley couldn’t help wondering what his problem was. She had awakened this morning after a wonderful night of sleep with the resolve that she wouldn’t do anything to tick him off. Bobby had called last night and when she’d told him Dr. Chambers had agreed to the interview, he had let out an excited shout. There was no way she could let down her boss and still expect to get back her old job.

She continued to eat her shrimp and grits. It was delicious. She’d tried the Southern cuisine one morning at the resort’s restaurant, but it hadn’t tasted as good as this. Winston was lucky to have had his grandmother and mother to teach him how to cook.

She glanced over at him. He was reading
The Wall Street Journal
off one of those e-reader devices, all but ignoring her. But there was no way she could ignore him. His strikingly handsome features made such a thing impossible. His mouth was firmly set and she wondered if it was something he was reading that didn’t sit well with him or if it was her presence.

As if he felt her staring, he lifted his gaze to connect with hers. For several hot and tense moments they sat there and stared. Ainsley could feel a flutter that began in the pit of her stomach and was causing havoc between her legs. Suddenly, her mind was bombarded with memories of the times they’d slept together and how intense the lovemaking had been.

He broke eye contact with her, snapped shut his e-reader and stood. “Join me near the dolphin tank when you’ve finished breakfast.”

She swallowed a deep lump in her throat as she watched him grab the sheet of paper off the counter before walking out of the kitchen.

* * *

What the hell is wrong with me?
Winston wondered an hour later, glancing over at the doorway for the umpteenth time, waiting for Ainsley to appear. Each time he thought he heard the sound of her coming down the stairway, a funny sensation would seep into his stomach.

Why was he so antsy about seeing her? Maybe this whole arrangement of her staying here while she did the interview was a mistake. He thought he could tolerate her presence but he was finding it harder and harder to do so.

He was about to start his daily log of the sea horses when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket, recognizing York’s ring tone.

He clicked on the phone. “What do you want, whipped?”

“Stop calling me that, W.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m not the only who dropped out of the Bachelor in Demand Club. So did Uriel and Xavier.”

“Yes, but you’re the most recent and you went down without a fight. You talked crap about not ever falling in love and the next thing I know you’re sending out wedding invitations. And you claimed you never liked Darcy, at least that’s what you told us. So, yes, bro, you are whipped.”

“Fine, keep calling me whipped if you like. I see it as being extremely happy.”

“Whatever.” And Winston had to grudgingly admit whenever he’d seen York over the past ten months since his marriage, he seemed happy. Too freakin’ happy. “And what do you want?” That was another thing that annoyed the hell out of him. Although York still called often enough, the conversations now seemed to be rushed. Like he had something better to do with his time than hang on the phone with his godbrother. Uriel and Xavier were the same way.

“Darcy wanted me to check to make sure we don’t need to add a date by your name for next month’s anniversary party,” York said, breaking into his thoughts.

Winston drew in a deep breath. “You know how I operate. I’m coming alone. You’re the one whipped. Not me.”

“And you better hope it stays that way or I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. You don’t know what you’re missing. In a way I should be grateful. With you, Uriel and Xavier married off, that means more single ladies for me, Virgil and Zion.”

“And I still say all three of your days are coming. Single ladies don’t like staying single for long. I can see the three of you eventually falling in line.”

Winston frowned. “Don’t try putting a curse on us, man.”

They talked for a few more minutes and when he glanced up and saw Ainsley, he said to York, “Hey, I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind about bringing a date, let me know or better yet surprise us.”

“I won’t be changing my mind and there won’t be any surprises. Goodbye, whipped.”

He placed the phone back in his pocket. “I was beginning to wonder about you,” he said to Ainsley.

She shrugged. “Thought I’d hang back a while.”

“Why?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“To give you time for that attitude adjustment you so badly need.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Aw, come on. Are you trying to say I wasn’t sweet as apple pie this morning?”

She laughed. “Trust me. You don’t want me to be brutally honest.”

He had a feeling she could be. “I guess not.” He looked at her. “I see you found the shirt.”

“Couldn’t miss it when you’d left it hanging on my doorknob.”

A smile touched his lips. “The job I’ll be doing today can get messy and I didn’t want you to ruin any of your pretty little blouses, so I gave you one of my old shirts.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. When do you think we can squeeze in some interview time?”

He’d decided he wouldn’t be rushed. “Not sure. We’ll play it by ear.”

“All right.”

He wasn’t sure what was all right about it when at that moment he was tempted to pull her into his arms and have his way with her mouth. But it wouldn’t stop there. He wanted to make love to her until both their bodies eventually went numb.

“We might as well get busy,” he mumbled hoarsely, not wanting to think about the fact that she was wearing his shirt and something of his was actually touching her skin.

A savage burn began spreading in his stomach, and disgusted with what little control he seemed to have with her, he walked off with her following in his wake.

* * *

Ainsley leaned over to glance into the huge tank that contained hundreds of different species of fish.

She then studied Winston and wished she wasn’t focused on just how good muscle shirts looked on him, outlining what a well-built body he had. He was keying data into one of several laptops. The man was in his own zone, attentive and observant. He told her that he preferred working alone, but would allow interns from Savannah State College School of Marine Biology to assist him during the summer months.

Winston had set up several workstations that surrounded five huge aquarium tanks. One was filled with sea horses, another with several species of plants and fishes. There was a third that contained baby dolphins, a fourth with a family of turtles, starfish, sea squirts and tunicates and the fifth that was Lucy and Ricky’s home. She could only identify the latter two because Winston had taken the time to point them out to her.

To say he was knowledgeable about sea life was an understatement. And before he’d gone into what she’d perceived as his don’t-bother-me-now mode, he had identified the different fish species, as well.

She let out a deep sigh. Last night he’d made it seem as if he had plenty of work for her to do yet all she’d done was type data into a spreadsheet on the computer. With that finished and nothing else to do at the moment, she was ready to ask questions.

“Winston?”

“Yes?” He didn’t even take the time to look up from the laptop.

“When did you know you were meant to do this?”

He stopped stroking his fingers across the laptop and glanced over at her. “When I almost died at fifteen.”

His brusque matter-of-fact response made her gasp, and her muscles tightened at the thought of him almost losing his life. “You almost died?” she asked in low voice, making sure she’d heard him correctly.

“Yes. I had a lot of allergies while growing up and we weren’t sure where they came from since no one else in my family is allergic to anything. When I was fifteen, I had an allergy attack that almost ended my life. In fact, the doctors sent me home from the hospital saying there was nothing else they could do.”

Ainsley’s hand flew to her throat. “They actually sent you home to die?”

“Yes. But my grandmother wasn’t having any of that. She went by boat into Mitchelville to visit her mother...and to get a recipe for a homemade Gullah remedy that my great-grandmother promised her would work.”

He paused for a moment and then said, “The recipe called for a lot of ingredients, including ground oyster shells and squid serum. Less than three days later I was back in school and I haven’t had an allergic reaction to anything since.”

“That’s some testimony,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yes, it is and I knew then the importance of sea life for medicinal purposes, and vowed to make it my life’s mission to do research to find other uses, as well.”

He leaned back in his chair. “For those who recall me having the illness growing up, it’s easier to say I outgrew it than to go into a lot of details on how I was cured. Those closest to me know and that’s all that matters.”

Now she understood what drove him to do what he was doing. What had initially stirred his passion. At least his passion for his work. She glanced around. This was his world. The one he was most comfortable with. The one he chose to live in. She liked that. And as she was beginning to know him, unravel him layer by layer, she would even admit she was beginning to like him.

“This is your passion,” she said softly.

“Yes, everyone has one. And from our conversation last night, I assume going into politics is yours.”

She shook her head. “Not politics per se, just to follow in my ancestor’s footsteps and become mayor of Claxton. But then I had my chance so that’s one dream lost I won’t worry about.”

“There will be another opportunity some day when his term expires, Ainsley. And like I said, you’re not a quitter.”

She glanced down into the tank with all the fish, studied several of them before looking back at him. “No, but I’d need the people’s support. Not sure I’ll get it since I didn’t this time.”

“Fools, all of them,” he said. “You would have gotten my vote.”

She believed him. “Thanks. My opponent won by a landslide, which leads me to believe that even those who started out supporting me stopped doing so once that lie came out about me.”

“The one about you being a stripper and not a dancer.”

He hadn’t asked but simply stated. There was no need to inquire as to how he’d known the specifics. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just continued to look at her for a few moments before turning back around to finish what he’d been doing on the laptop.

She glanced back into the tank. His questions had drummed up heartache that she wanted so much to forget. She still couldn’t understand how people who’d known her all her life could believe the worst about her from a stranger.

“Come here a minute. I want to show you something.”

She glanced to where he’d moved from the workstation to the tank that held the sea horses. “What?” she asked, coming to stand beside him and glancing over into the tank. She couldn’t stop her body from responding to his closeness no matter how much she tried.

“The sea horses are in their last round of courtship. There will be a full moon tonight, which means they will probably mate,” he said.

There was something in the way he said “mate” that started sensuous sensations rolling around in her belly. “Is it a gang bang or is it a one-female-for-one-male thing?” she asked.

He chuckled and she could practically feel his breath on her neck which made her realize just how close they were standing. “Um, like in most species, male sea horses can get rather possessive. And if the female approaches another male, her lover-to-be actually snatches her head to get her back in line. What he does is rather painful and usually it reminds her who she belongs to.”

“Sounds like caveman tactics.”

“Whatever you want to call it, it works.”

“For a sea horse. I wouldn’t try it if I were a real man.”

“Probably not. Look.”

He pointed out a group of sea horses and she watched as the female tried to swim away and a dominant male did exactly what Winston said he would do, snatch her head in a way that Ainsley knew had to be kind of painful. “Ouch.”