The Ex

Her solitary life was by choice. She enjoyed her freedom. And she wasn’t interested in getting married just for the sake of marrying. If she couldn’t love someone as much as she’d loved Chris, she had no intention of settling for anything less.

* * *

The moment Kendall Wells entered her house, she smelled the delicious aroma of food. Smiling to herself, she tossed aside her jacket and briefcase, then undid the top two buttons on her silk blouse. Quinn Cortez was in her kitchen. That meant he was cooking. Remembering their brief affair, she sighed when she recalled that not only was the man extremely talented in the bedroom, but he was also a master in the kitchen. If he hadn’t decided there was more money in being a lawyer, Quinn could have been a chef.

Kendall paused and sucked in a deep breath as she watched Quinn. Wearing a large white apron—one of hers— around his waist, he stood over the stove, stirring some kind of sauce in an stainless-steel pan with one hand and sipping on a glass of red wine that he held in the other hand. What a man! Exotically alluring with his rich bronze skin, his wavy black hair and eyes so dark and fathomless that looking into them was like being sucked into a sensual black hole. Once a woman dived in, she would be forever lost.

“Welcome home.” He offered her one of his cream-your-panties smiles. God, the man was lethal, even in small doses.

Scratch that thought, she told herself. Considering the fact that Quinn was a suspect in a murder case, she didn’t want to associate the word lethal with him, not even in her thoughts.

Think about something other than how much you’d like to drag the man off into your bedroom and keep him there all weekend. And for goodness sake, don’t even consider the possibility that he might be a murderer. You know Quinn better than that.

Or at least she thought she did.

“Something sure smells good,” she said.

“Nothing fancy. I found some things in the freezer and in the pantry. So how does stuffed pork chops, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, twice baked potatoes and a pear salad sound to you?”

“You found the makings for all that in my kitchen?”

He nodded. “Take off your shoes, sit down and let me pour you a glass of wine. You look tired. What’s kept you so busy on a Saturday?”

Kendall stepped out of her shoes, then sat on the sofa in the great room and waited for Quinn to bring her the wine before she said anything. “Sit down here with me.” She patted the sofa cushions.

With his own wineglass refilled and in hand, he sat beside her. “Your working on a Saturday has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

“I have a bad feeling about this case,” she told him. “Sergeant George is an ambitious young man. If he could pin this murder wrap on you, arrest you and the DA could win a conviction, it could make both his career and the DA’s. The media would have a field day if one of the most famous criminal lawyers in the country was arrested for Lulu Vanderley’s murder.”

After taking a couple of sips of wine, Quinn set his glass on a coaster atop the coffee table, then reached over and circled the back of Kendall’s neck with his big hand. As he caressed tenderly, she sighed. His touch was like magic—erotic magic.

“If the worst happens and I’m arrested, you’ll make a name for yourself by getting me acquitted.”

“Do you have that much faith in me?”

He took her glass from her hand and put the crystal flute to her lips. She took a sip, all the while keeping her gaze riveted to his. His black eyes were mesmerizing. God damn it, she thought she was over him, that she’d dealt with any leftover romantic feelings she had for him. Undoubtedly, she’d been wrong. Right this minute, she wanted Quinn as much as ever. Maybe more.

“I have all the faith in the world in you, honey.” He set her glass down on a second coaster, alongside his. “Besides, I’m innocent. I did not kill Lulu.”

“I believe you,” she told him, her heart beating erratically as he inched his fingers up her neck and into her hair. When he cupped the back of her head and pulled her toward him, she gasped, knowing full well that when he kissed her, she’d give in completely.

“Kendall, I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you…” He waited, not kissing her, only staring deeply into her eyes. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you, but”—he heaved a deep sigh—“we both know that mixing business with pleasure is a stupid move.”

Kendall shoved him away and jumped to her feet. Standing over him, breathless with sexual frustration, she cursed under her breath. “Damn you, Quinn.”

“Honey, I’m sorry if—”

“I thought I could handle this—being your lawyer, having you staying here with me. But it appears that I’m not as immune to you as I thought I was. It seems that once Quinn Cortez is in your system, it’s not so easy to get rid of him.”

Quinn stood, but made no attempt to touch her. “I’m getting a place of my own, just in case I’m stuck in Memphis for more than a few days. The gang’s coming in tomorrow. I’ll be out of your hair then. Once this thing is over…”

He grinned and that killer smile was her undoing. Killer smile? Lethal? Stop using that type of terminology when you think about Quinn. What was wrong with her? She’d always known Quinn’s sex appeal was lethal, that he possessed a killer smile. Those words had never bothered her before now. But that was before Quinn became a murder suspect. Before the thought had crossed her mind that he might have actually killed Lulu Vanderley.

“Kendall, honey, are you all right?”

“Huh?” Had her doubts translated into a facial expression that concerned him? God, she hoped not.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” She shook her head to dislodge such idiotic thoughts. “No, this isn’t your fault. I’ve probably been sending out mixed signals. So let’s forget all this nonsense and go back to safe ground. We’re friends and nothing more for the duration. We’re not saying no to each other, just not now. Not yet.”

“Agreed,” Quinn said, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Dinner is ready and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. What say we eat, then you can go with me to the Peabody to meet with Griffin Powell. I have an eight o’clock appointment with him tonight.”

“Griffin Powell? You’re hiring Griffin Powell?”

Quinn headed for the kitchen. “Refill the wineglasses, while I put dinner on the table. Eating in here in the breakfast room is okay with me if it is with you.”

“You contacted Griffin Powell and plan to hire him to do what—investigate Lulu Vanderley’s murder?” Kendall followed him into the kitchen area.

“I don’t intend to take any chances, in case the police don’t cover all the bases. We both know that they could concentrate all their efforts on finding evidence against me. I want a private investigator who’s on my payroll, somebody who’ll be working to find the real killer, to prove me innocent.”

“Damn it, Quinn, I’m your lawyer. You shouldn’t be doing anything without running it by me first.”

“I’m taking you with me to meet with Powell tonight. That’s running it by you, isn’t it?”

“And if I disagree with you?”

“About Powell?”

“About anything?”

“Honey, you’re a very good lawyer. I trust you. But we both know that I’m the best damn criminal lawyer there is. As much as I trust your judgment, I trust my own more.”

“Then maybe you’d better defend yourself if you wind up going to trial.”

Quinn zeroed in on her, his gaze freezing her to the spot. She held her breath as he came toward her, grasped her by the shoulders and held her tightly in place.

“Don’t do this. You’re pissed at me because…well, because you’re all hot and bothered, because you want me, because we want each other, but we agreed jumping into bed together might not be a good idea.”

She glared at him.

“I need you, Kendall. Together, we’ll make an unbeatable team.”

Clenching her teeth, she grunted, admitting to herself that he was right. “Okay, this situation with Lulu’s murder could wind up meaning your life is on the line, so I’m not going to argue with you. Besides, I should have known we’d have to play this game by your rules.”

He smiled. “It’s the only way I play.”

Chapter 6

Griffin Powell opened the door to his suite and met Annabelle with a cordial semismile. His lips curved upward ever so slightly, but not enough to be a true smile. He was just as she remembered him from their one and only meeting and she found him just as overpoweringly mesmeric now as then. A large, broad-shouldered man, with platinum-blond hair and a pair of dark blue eyes that seemed blank and lifeless one moment, then pensive and calculating the next.

“Please, come in, Ms. Vanderley.”

“Thank you.” She walked into the suite as he stepped aside to allow her entrance. When he followed her into the lounge area, she turned and faced him. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to meet with me. I hope I can persuade you to take this case.”

“Won’t you have a seat?” He indicated the sofa with a hand gesture. “Would you care for something to drink?”

Annabelle sat on the sofa, folded her hands and placed them in her lap as she slid one ankle demurely behind the other. She had learned at an early age, at her grandmother Austin’s knee, the proper way for a young lady to sit. “I wouldn’t care for anything to drink, but thank you.”

Griffin sat across from her, on the gold brocade wing chair, and dropped his clasped hands between his knees as he leaned forward and looked directly at her.

“I’m very sorry about your cousin. It’s tragic when someone dies so young, but even more so when murder is involved.”

She offered him a weak, agreeable nod. “Yes, you’re right. Lulu would have turned twenty-eight in a couple of months. I’m still finding it difficult to believe that she’s really gone. And my uncle Louis—Lulu’s father—is taking her death very hard. He’s an old man, with numerous health problems. I believe the only thing that will keep him alive now is finding out who killed his daughter.”

“And that’s where I come in?”

“Yes. I want to hire you to investigate Lulu’s murder.”

“Isn’t that a job for the Memphis police department?”

“Yes. Certainly. But I don’t want any stone unturned, no avenue not taken. The police don’t have any real suspects and it’s been nearly twenty-four hours. Don’t they say that the first twenty-four hours is crucial to solving a crime?”

“Do they?” Griffin cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

Not quite sure how to interpret his comment, she chose to ignore it. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to harm Lulu. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Everyone who knew her liked her on some level. She had an electric type of personality and—”

“Did you like her?”

“I beg you pardon?”

“Did you like your cousin Lulu?”

Annabelle caught herself before she automatically said yes and gave her reply some thought. “I loved Lulu because we were cousins and very close when we were young. And I did like her, at least part of the time. She could be selfish and irresponsible and I certainly didn’t approve of the kind of life she lived. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded. “You’re aware that the media seems to be putting out their own scenarios concerning Lulu’s death,” Griffin said. “Their favorite appears to be that it’s possible her latest lover killed her. How do you feel about that?”

“I’ve been ignoring the media as much as possible, but I’m well aware that not only is that scenario a favorite with the press, but also with the police.”

“You know the identity of your cousin’s latest lover, the man who discovered her body, don’t you?”

“Yes…I…uh…I met Mr. Cortez this morning, at the police station.”

“Did you? So what do you think? Could he have killed your cousin?”

Annabelle didn’t know how to answer these unexpected questions. How could she tell Griffin Powell that she did not want to believe Quinn Cortez was capable of murder because he had struck a personal chord deep inside her, that her reaction to Lulu’s lover had been that of a woman relating to a highly desirable man? The very thought of her response to Mr. Cortez’s protective gestures made her feel cheap and sleazy. It was so out of character for her.

“I don’t know Mr. Cortez well enough to have an opinion,” she said.

“Hmm…”

“If you agree to take this case, naturally I’ll want you to investigate Mr. Cortez, even though I’m certain the police will put him under a microscope.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will, since he was her lover and he discovered the body. They will want to rule out any possibility that he killed her before they look further and that’s the reason he has—” A repetitive knock on the door interrupted Griffin midsentence. “If you’ll excuse me.” He stood and walked to the door.

Annabelle turned halfway around and focused her gaze on Griffin as he opened the door. Her heart caught in her throat when she instantly recognized the couple who entered the suite. Kendall Wells, followed by Quinn Cortez.

What are they doing here?

“Please, come inside and meet my other guest,” Griffin said.

Kendall Wells stopped instantly the moment she saw Annabelle. Quinn Cortez paused, did a double-take, then glared at Griffin.

“I see you already have a guest,” Quinn said. “Did I get the time wrong? Was our appointment for later?”

“No, you’re here right on time,” Griffin replied. “Ms. Vanderley was a few minutes early.”

“What’s she doing here?” Kendall asked.

Annabelle’s gaze connected with Quinn’s. An odd sensation hit her in the pit of her stomach. His gaze was not friendly; it even bordered on hostile, but she couldn’t look away.

“It seems that Ms. Vanderley is in need of a private investigator, just as Mr. Cortez is,” Griffin explained. “Imagine my surprise when I realized that both of my prospective clients want the same murder investigated.”

“I see,” Kendall said. “So you decided to meet with both Ms. Vanderley and Mr. Cortez and see who’s willing to bid the highest for your services.”

“Humph.” The sound that came from Griffin was a combination of amused chuckle and disgusted irritation.

“I think you insulted Mr. Griffin,” Quinn told Kendall. “Perhaps you should apologize.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll say I’m sorry.” Kendall shot Quinn a withering glare, then focused on Griffin with glowering intensity. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” Griffin told her, a cold, indifferent expression on his face. “I set up this meeting to see if Ms. Vanderley and Mr. Cortez would be willing to work together to find Lulu Vanderley’s murderer.”

“You what?” Kendall glanced back and forth from Quinn to Annabelle, then said to Griffin, “You’re suggesting that they both hire you and the two of them join forces to track down Lulu’s murderer. Is that correct?”

“No, I—I don’t think that would work,” Annabelle said. The last thing she wanted was to spend anymore time with Quinn Cortez than she already had.

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Kendall asked. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“But only if Ms. Vanderley believes I’m innocent,” Quinn said as he walked toward the sofa. Stopping when he was less than two feet away from Annabelle, he looked right at her. “And you’re not sure, are you? You believe there’s a possibility that I killed your cousin.”

Aaron shoved the naked girl over and positioned her so that she had to catch herself from falling by bracing her open palms flat against the bed. While she gasped and shivered, he ran his hand over her sleek butt, then lifted his penis and rammed it into her. Damn, what a feeling. Grasping her hips, he maneuvered her back and forth, quickly increasing the speed and the pressure. Their naked flesh slapped together and that friction combined with her feminine moisture created a smacking sound. Despite the fact that this was their third time tonight, he was on the verge of coming. But hell, he was twenty-six and hadn’t been with a woman in weeks. He’d built up a lot of steam and it was going to take awhile to blow it off.

The louder her grunts and groans, the more excited he became, the closer to losing it. He slid his arm around her, eased his hand between her legs and fingered her clitoris. Within a couple of minutes, she keened deep in her throat, then cried out when her climax hit. That was all it took to send him over the edge.

In the aftermath, sweaty and panting, they fell across the bed. As he lay there looking up at the dark ceiling, he sighed. He’d met Gala in a downtown bar this evening and they’d hit it off from the first hello. It had taken him all of thirty minutes to talk her into coming back to his apartment with him. They’d practically ripped off each other’s clothes the minute they got here and he’d humped her on the sofa the first time. The second time had been an hour later and he’d taken the missionary position, with her lying under him in bed.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

“I don’t think I have anything,” he told her as he worked the condom off his deflated penis and dropped it on a magazine lying on the floor beside the bed. “I’ve been out of town and haven’t had a chance to restock.”

Gala cuddled up against him. “Do you really work for Quinn Cortez?”

“Yeah, I really do.” He reached down and pulled the sheet and blanket up and over them, covering him to just above his waist and her to the top of her tits.

“And you were with him in Nashville during the Terry McBryar case?”

“Every day he was there, I was there. I told you, I’m part of his personal staff.”

“What’s it like being that close to a man like Quinn Cortez?” She curled several strands of his chest hair around her index finger. “I mean the guy’s like famous and all.”

Gala wasn’t the first woman he’d impressed by telling her that he worked for Quinn and she sure wouldn’t be the last. He’d told Quinn about using his name to get chicks and his boss had just laughed and said, “If it gets you laid, go for it.” Quinn was that kind of guy. When it came to scoring with a woman, nothing was off-limits. All was fair in love and war. And Quinn always won at both. Aaron figured there wasn’t a woman alive Quinn couldn’t conquer. And the man never lost when it came to courtroom warfare.

Gala propped herself up with her elbow and gazed down at Aaron. “You know, you look like him a little. Same black hair and brown eyes. You’re Hispanic, too, aren’t you?”

“You guessed it, sweetie. Me and Quinn are like two peas in a pod.”

He wasn’t Hispanic—not even half—and any resemblance to Quinn was purely superficial. They were about the same height at six one and they had similar coloring, although without a tan, Aaron was several shades lighter than Quinn. He owed his ethnic heritage to his maternal grandmother, a Navajo who still lived on the reservation. But since he’d probably never see Gala again, why spoil the image of him she had in her mind?

A loud, aggressive pounding at the door brought Aaron up out of bed and sent Gala scooting toward the bathroom, picking up some of their discarded clothing as she went.

“You expecting somebody?” she called to him from the bathroom.

“Nope.” He’d deliberately unplugged his phone after they’d done it the first time and turned off his cell, too. He didn’t want anything interrupting what he’d hoped would be an all-night love-a-thon.

“Whoever it is, get rid of them.” She winked at him before she shut the door.

Aaron grabbed his jeans off the floor, shimmied hurriedly into them and headed out of the bedroom. The knocking grew more intense.

“Hey, man, if you’re in there, open the damn door,” Jace Morgan shouted.

What the hell was Jace doing here? After returning to Houston, Jace, Marcy and he had gone their separate ways, as they always did after the end of a business trip. Quinn’s personal staff worked like a well-oiled machine when together, despite the difference in their personalities; but the minute a case ended, they didn’t make contact again until Quinn called them together. He usually gave them at least a week’s downtime after a big case. And the Terry McBryar case had been one of the biggest. He expected to get a really nice bonus, something else Quinn did after winning a case. He was the kind of guy who took care of his people.

“Hold your horses,” Aaron said as he raced through the living room. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Marcy Sims with Jace. He knew instantly that something was up. “What’s wrong?”

Not waiting for an invitation, Marcy swept past him and into his apartment. “Quinn’s in trouble. He wants us in Nashville by tomorrow.”

“What kind of trouble?” Aaron asked.

“That Lulu Vanderley he was going to Nashville to see got herself murdered last night.” Jace closed the door and came inside behind Marcy.

“You’re shitting me?”

“Quinn found her body,” Marcy said. “So you know what that means.”

“He’s a suspect,” Aaron replied.

“He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill her,” Jace said emphatically. “The boss would never murder anybody.”

“Yeah, you’re right, he wouldn’t,” Aaron agreed. “But I’ll bet there are a lot of people who’re getting a big laugh out of this. The most famous criminal lawyer in the country, who’s gotten dozens of accused murderers acquitted, might get charged with murder himself.”

“They can’t arrest Quinn for murder.” Jace’s cheeks flushed with emotion. “We gotta do whatever we can to help him.”

Sometimes Aaron found it amusing the way Jace hero-worshiped Quinn. But then the kid owed Quinn a lot, didn’t he, even more than he and Marcy did? They were all three misfits, kids who’d been in trouble, heading for a life of crime. Marcy had been abused by her father and wound up on the streets, ready to turn tricks at sixteen. A cheerleader-type blonde with big brown eyes, she could have made a fortune as a prostitute. Her salvation had been that the first guy she’d approached on her first night on the job turned out to be Quinn Cortez, a real crusader for kids in trouble. He’d gotten her placed in a good foster home, helped her attend junior college and then hired her as his personal assistant.

Aaron’s story wasn’t much different, except he’d wound up at the Judge Harwood Brown Boys’ Ranch, a place built and run by Quinn and several other guys who’d been boys in trouble themselves way back when and had been saved by old Judge Brown. When Aaron turned eighteen, Quinn had encouraged him to go to college, but he’d known college wasn’t for him. He wasn’t stupid, but he was no Einstein either. He made Quinn understand that he didn’t have the smarts for college. He’d been working for Quinn as his chauffeur and all-around gofer ever since. The pay was good, the benefits great.

Jace, another Judge Harwood Brown Boys’ Ranch alumnus, had been working for Quinn for the past year. He was a pretty kid, with hazel eyes and curly sandy brown hair that he kept short to control the curls, but Jace’s story wasn’t a pretty one. He’d admitted that he had been molested by a priest when he was twelve, which had screwed him up pretty bad. And it didn’t help that he’d grown up without a dad and had lost his mother, too, only a couple of years ago.

“I’ve booked us flights for tomorrow morning,” Marcy said. “And I’ve lined up a four-bedroom house and a rental car. I’m hoping the police will clear this up pretty quickly and we can all head home in a few days, but—”

“Aaron, who was at the door?” Wearing only his rumpled shirt, Gala stopped dead still in the doorway between the bedroom and living room. “Oops. Sorry.”

“We…er…we were just leaving.” Marcy started backing toward the door.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Gala said. “Stick around. I was just going to order pizza.”

Marcy looked directly at Aaron. “Jace will pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning. Be ready.”

“No problem,” Aaron told her.

“Quinn’s counting on us, man,” Jace said, eyeing Gala disapprovingly. “We can’t let him down.”