Playing for Keeps (8 page)

When he released her from his embrace, Avery had to touch her lips because she felt as if he'd branded her as his.

“You must have really needed that,” Quentin said.

“Why would you say that?” she asked, haughtily taking a step backward.

“Because you kiss like you're making love. You have no idea how erotic that is.” Quentin couldn't remember the last time a woman had kissed him with such abandon. There had been raw emotion behind that kiss and it had surprised the heck out of him.

“Really?” Avery's cheeks turned red. No one had ever told her that before. In fact, most men had said she was too reserved and needed to let go. Perhaps it was not her kissing technique, but the man himself who had brought out the passion in her? The knowledge made her heart pound in her chest. Could he hear its frantic beat?

“Yes, really.” Quentin smiled broadly. “If you kiss me like that again, I might have to take you back up to your apartment and ravish you all night.” He was sure she had to have felt the bold evidence of his arousal pressed against her.

“Ravish me?” Avery laughed. “Quentin, do women really fall for lines like that?”

He chuckled and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes. Yes.”

She couldn't stop from grinning. She had a feeling he wasn't lying. There was definitely something about Quentin Davis that intrigued her more than any man had in a long time. She didn't want to be attracted, but there was no escaping his sheer magnetism. Or the fact that he was intelligent, sexy as hell and funny, too. “Thank you again for a lovely evening, but it's late.”

“Fair enough.” Quentin leaned down and lightly swept his lips over hers again. “Perhaps we can do this again?”

“Maybe,” Avery replied. She didn't want to give a player like Quentin a big head and let him think he'd completely won her over—when in fact he already had. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder before entering her apartment building.

As the door closed behind her, Quentin shook his head. Avery Roberts was not going to cut him any slack. She was too stubborn to admit that she'd felt an attraction during that kiss just as much as he had. Avery Roberts had certainly piqued his curiosity. So much so, he now wanted to see where this would lead and not just for the bet. There was a lioness just waiting to be unleashed underneath that cool exterior.

“Oh, there's no maybe, Avery,” Quentin said. “We'll be seeing each other again real soon.”

 

“You sounded strange when you called and said we
had
to meet,” Jenna said when she met up with Avery for lunch on Saturday.

“Jenna, I wouldn't know where to start.” Should she begin with the fact that she'd been adopted? Or that she was attracted to Quentin Davis?

“Why don't you try? Talking it out always helps,” Jenna said. “Is it your job? Is Hunter acting like a jerk?”

Avery shook her head. She wished it were as simple as that, but it wasn't. “Hunter's always a jerk.”

“What, then?”

Avery decided to start with the former. “I'm adopted.”

“What?” Jenna's eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“Most definitely, I wouldn't joke about this. When I was helping my mother clean out the attic, I found my adoption papers and a copy of what turns out to be my amended birth certificate.”

“No.” Jenna was shocked. “Are you sure, Avery? I mean you're thirty-three years old. Why wouldn't they have told you?”

“I have no idea, Jenna. When I saw the word
adoption
written on those pages, I didn't know what to think, but they admitted it. They've lied to me my entire life.”

“Oh, Avery, I'm so sorry.” Jenna hugged her best friend. “No wonder you haven't returned my calls. You must be so devastated. What can I do?”

“There's nothing that can be done, Jenna.” Avery had had time to process the news and to take action, such as trying to find her biological parents.

“Then a drink is definitely in order,” Jenna replied. When a waiter walked by, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Waiter, we'll have two cosmos, please.” She turned back around. “So, what's next?”

“I've hired a private investigator to look for my biological mother.”

The waiter returned with two large martinis and placed them on the table. Avery was the first to reach for hers and sipped generously.

“How long does he think it'll take to find her?”

“Who knows?” Avery shrugged. “Months, possibly years.”

“I'm so sorry, Avery.” Jenna reached across the table and placed her hand over hers. “Let's talk about something else then, you know, take your mind off things.”

“How about we start with my date with Quentin Davis?”

“Your date? Since when?” Jenna didn't recall Avery mentioning anything about a date with that gorgeous photographer.

“Since last night.” Avery blushed, lowering her lashes.

“And?” Jenna was dying for details. She couldn't believe reserved Avery would actually go out of her comfort zone and date a hottie like Quentin Davis.

“Believe it or not, I had a lot of fun,” Avery said.

“What did you do?”

“We went to a Moroccan restaurant where we ate with our hands, if you can believe it?” Avery held up her pristine French-manicured nails. “My hands, Jenna,” Avery said in disbelief. “And then he took me to a John Mayer concert.”

“Wow, that sounds like an incredible first date.” Jenna's brow furrowed. “I'm jealous. So, how did it end?”

Avery closed her eyes for a moment and remembered the way his lips had moved over hers, coaxing a response from her. And the battery of sensations that had assailed her at the slightest graze of his hands on her breasts. Her eyes flew open immediately and she found Jenna staring at her.

“It must have been some ending!” Jenna replied to Avery's wistful expression.

“It certainly was.” Avery smiled.

“S
o, are you ready to get back to work?” Quentin's agent, Jason Morgan, asked when Quentin stopped by his office in Midtown for his next assignment.

“No, not really,” Quentin replied. After three weeks off, he'd gotten rather used to his carefree days. “But I suppose I couldn't stay on vacation forever.”

“No, you can't.
Capitalist
has been chomping at the bit for you to do a photo exposé.”

“Who's it on?” Quentin asked.

“See for yourself.” Jason slid a manila folder across his desk. Quentin picked it up and flipped it open.

“Holy…” Quentin gasped. He was caught off guard by the contents of the folder.
Richard King
was his next assignment.
Capitalist
wanted him to follow King for a few weeks and reveal the man behind the multi-million-dollar King Corporation.

“What's wrong?” Jason asked. He was disturbed by his client's reaction to what was considered a great opportunity to showcase his talents.

Quentin stared speechlessly at the folder for several moments before handing it back to Jason. “I can't accept that job.”

“Why the hell not?
Capitalist
will pay you a mint for your photographs.”

Quentin shook his head. “I can't, Jason.”

“Until you give me a reason, Q, I can't help you.”

Quentin rose to his feet and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. “You have no idea how messy this can get. Richard King is the man trying to take over the community center where Malik, Sage, Dante and I grew up. His corporation is trying to destroy the community.”

Understanding dawned on Jason and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And your friends have come to you for help?”

“Yes. And I agreed to use all my resources to help stop this travesty. How can I do that if I'm spotlighting the very man who's a symbol of everything they're against?”

“Because I already committed you,” Jason said. “I'm sorry, Quentin, but I had no idea.”

Quentin spun around and his dark eyebrows slanted into a frown. “Well, you're just going to have to un-commit me, Jason.”

“I can't. I've already cashed the advance. And anyway, it would be completely unprofessional. Quentin, I told you about this job weeks ago and you agreed. I can't go back and tell them you're not available. If I'd known this when you got back, I would have told them to look elsewhere. It's crunch time now.”

Quentin understood where Jason was coming from, but money wasn't everything to him. He would be well off with or without this assignment. “There are any number of qualified photographers out there, Jason.”

“They don't want another
qualified
photographer, Q,” Jason said. “They want you. You're the best. And Richard King requested you,” he added for good measure.

“Now you're yanking my chain.”

Jason laughed. He couldn't kid a kidder. “Okay, perhaps that was laying it on a little thick, but go meet Richard King and if you decide you don't want to do the story, come back and I'll see what I can do.”

“I don't know….” Quentin had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Perhaps if you meet the man, you might be able to sway him.”

“Away from a multimillion-dollar investment? That's highly unlikely, but I'll go,” Quentin said, much to Jason's relief. He wanted to meet the tycoon who thought he could ride roughshod over an entire community without anyone fighting back.

“Thank you,” Jason said. “It'll all work out. You'll see.”

Quentin shrugged. He doubted it. Matter of fact, he was sure the you-know-what was about to hit the fan.

When he arrived at the community center later that afternoon for his first photography session with the young men from the basketball court, Malik was there waiting for him. He'd arranged for Quentin to use one of the spare rooms.

“Quentin, what's up, my brother?” Malik said, giving him a customary hug.

“Just here to show these young men the basics,” Quentin said, opening up the box of cameras he'd brought with him. He'd brought each of the boys a digital camera for their own personal use. He'd also brought some of his own equipment to show them the fundamentals of photography.

“Quentin, you didn't have to do that,” Malik replied.

“I wanted to—now get out of here.” Quentin pushed him toward the door. “I have work to do.”

As the nine boys filed in, Quentin went on to explain some essentials. “As some of you may or may not know, there are different types of cameras. I use a point-and-shoot 35 mm camera, but today many photographers have moved to digital photography that you can manipulate and edit. And I've brought some with me, one for each of you.” Quentin handed them each a camera. The boys were amazed. Many of them had never been given anything so extravagant.

“Is it ours to keep?” one boy asked.

“It sure is,” Quentin replied.

Afterward, he gave them their first assignment and asked them to take pictures of their family, friends and community, or whatever meant something to them. In a couple of weeks he would come back, bring his laptop and they could share their experience with the rest of the group.

“I have to admit, Q, I wasn't sure you were going to come through,” Malik said as the young men exited.

Quentin frowned and stepped back. “Why not?”

“You're an important man. I wouldn't think you would have time to mess around with a bunch of kids.”

“Well, you're wrong,” Quentin replied, turning around. “Those kids were me. Could have been me if Mr. Webster hadn't stepped in. Listen, Malik, I know I've been away for a while, but have you really forgotten who I am?” The way Malik was talking sounded as if he had lost faith in Quentin.

“I'm sorry. I really didn't mean that how it sounded. I just meant that I'm happy those boys have a positive influence like you in their life. They need it.” Malik smiled. Quentin had surprised him with his compassion. He hadn't thought that would be possible after more than twenty years of friendship, but it was. Malik couldn't be prouder of Quentin.

“And I'm happy to be here,” Quentin said. And he meant it. Even though he was between a rock and a hard place professionally, he wouldn't abandon the commitment he'd made to these young men.

 

“I have good news,” Woody said when he called Avery a couple of days later.

“You do?” Avery's voice broke mid-sentence. “Hold on a sec.” She was in the middle of a sale and had to excuse herself before she could continue. She motioned to her intern to keep the client busy. “I'll be right back,” she whispered to the customer and quickly rushed up the stairs to her office and closed the door. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Vital Records just faxed me over a copy of your original birth certificate.”

“Wow!” Avery fell back into her chair. She couldn't believe her ears. It had only been a week. She'd thought it would take much longer to receive an original copy of her birth certificate. She'd done some research on the Internet and she'd read that it took adoptees years to find their birth parents. “It's as easy as that?”

“In this case, yes,” Woody replied. “I am as shocked as you are.” He'd thought the process would take as long as four to six weeks for them to even find the record, but to top it all off the birth mother had her signed consent on file. Either Avery was really lucky or the office wasn't that busy.

“So, wh-what's her name, Woody?” Avery asked.

“Her name was Leah Gordon.”

“Leah.” Avery mulled the name over in her head. “That's really pretty. What else does it say?”

“It says she was twenty years of age and that you were born in Manchester, New Hampshire,” Woody answered. “I can fax you a copy if you like.”

“Uh, sure,” Avery said uneasily. Did she really want to see the name her birth mother had given her before she'd handed her off to her parents?

“Sure thing, Avery. Natalie's putting it on the fax now.” Woody handed his secretary the document. “Now that we know her real name, we can begin the search. I'll start first in New Hampshire.”

“But what if she didn't live there?”

“Then we'll have to widen our search, which could take much longer. But for now, let's run with the assumption that she's a native from New Hampshire. And if so, then it's just a matter of following her trail.”

“How soon will you know something?”

“Don't know,” Woody said honestly. “She could have moved or gotten married, changed her name, or the name she gave on the certificate could be a fake, but as soon as I find out anything I'll be sure and give you a call.”

“Thank you, Woody.” When Avery hung up, she experienced a gamut of emotions, from excitement to absolute terror at the thought of a face-to-face meeting with her birth mother. Not to mention the fact that she and her father still hadn't told her mother yet. Avery was in the process of picking up the phone when a knock resonated on her door.

She rose, walked over and opened it. She tried not to show her displeasure at finding Hunter on the other side.

“Is it true, you just walked away from a sale?” he inquired.

“Yes, it is,” Avery replied. “It was just a few moments and I was just headed back down to finish the deal.”

“Don't bother, I sealed the deal.”

Avery sighed. Great. There went her commission because Hunter certainly wasn't going to give her a share in it. “Thank you.”

“I hope that phone call was important, because it almost cost this gallery a prime sale.”

“I'm sorry, but the call was important.”

“What is going on with you, Roberts?” Hunter eyed her carefully. “You've been distracted. Is there something going on in your personal life? Do you need some time off?”

Avery didn't appreciate Hunter's inquisition. “If there were, I wouldn't tell you,” she responded. “My personal life is just that, Hunter. Personal. And no, I don't need any time off.”

She tried to sweep past him, but he halted her. She glanced down at his hand and he quickly removed it from her arm.

“Fine, you don't have to tell me anything,” Hunter said in her ear, “but just know this—you had better get focused because you're on thin ice.”

“I'll remember that.” Avery stalked down the stairs. She didn't know why, but she was afraid to look at that fax. This was what she wanted, right? This was what she'd hired Woody to do. So why was she so scared of seeing the truth in black and white? Avery didn't know why, but she just didn't have the courage to see in print what she knew to be a reality—that she'd been given up at birth.

 

Later that evening, Avery did find the courage to stop avoiding her parents' home and finally speak with her mother, Veronica. It was time she told her that she was searching for her biological parents. As she opened the front door, Avery dreaded the task ahead of her.

“Mom, Dad,” she called out.

“Avery.” Her mother came from the back of the house, rushing toward her. “I'm so happy you came by. I've missed you so much. Knowing that you've been angry with me has been agony.” Her mother gave her a big hug.

“Hello, Mother.” Avery quickly patted her back and moved away.

“Darling, please come in.” Her mother pulled her toward the living room and sat down on the sofa. She patted a spot next to her. “Have a seat. What's new in your life?”

“This isn't a social visit.”

“I realize that, Avery,” her mother said. “I know you're still very upset with me.”

“That's putting it mildly. Quite frankly, I feel like I can't trust you, which is why I'm here.”

Her father walked in at just that moment. “Dad.” Avery rose and accepted his kiss on the cheek. Why was it so much easier for her to forgive her dad than her mother? Avery wondered. For some reason, she held her mother responsible for keeping this deception going so long. “I was just about to explain the reason for my visit.”

She watched his eyes widen with concern as he sat down opposite them. “Mother,” Avery began, sitting back down, “I need to tell you something and I know this may hurt, but I felt I owed it to you to tell you where my head is at.”

“Whatever it is, Avery, you can just tell me,” her mother stated calmly.

Avery inhaled and released a long breath before proceeding. “I've hired a private investigator to search for my birth parents and he received a copy of my original birth certificate today. Her name is Leah—”

“You did what!” Veronica Roberts rose to her feet.

“I know—” Avery began but her mother interrupted.