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  Nightsweats

  By

  Joan Early

  © Copyright by Joan Early, October 2012

  © Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, October 2012

  ISBN 978-1-60394-748-0

  Published by New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.store.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Chelsea Constantine left the offices of the New Orleans District Attorney and stepped spryly across the steaming concrete parking lot. Taking two steps to David Porter’s one, she felt a stream of moisture drizzle down the middle of her breasts. Removing her jacket, she watched David’s brawny muscles strain against the navy broadcloth of his policeman’s uniform.

  “I appreciate you walking me out, David.”

  “No problem.” He kept walking.

  She stepped rapidly, trying to avoid cracks that could damage the heels of her new Gaylon Grace pumps. “I don’t think it’s necessary to have an escort to my car. As Mama Rose would say, it is broad-open daylight.” Noticing the clear outline of her nipples against her blouse, she moved her arms to cover her chest. “I don’t think anyone would try and harm me with so many people walking around.”

  “It was broad-open daylight when some maniac left a note on your car and let the air out of your tires.” He glanced around to meet her eyes. “Those nasty messages they left on your machine also didn’t happen at night. This parking lot is dangerous, even during the day.”

  He’s right. It had been difficult to go through a normal workday with threat of violence looming in the back of her mind. Police protection made her feel uneasy, even if the man in blue was a good friend and the object of her sizable crush when she was younger. She mused that maybe the past and their close association added to her discomfort. It had taken two years and a lot of new college friends to dim the obsession that began when she was sixteen. Even now, the image of David, nude from the waist down, and with an arousal that could support a flag, knocked her off center. She smiled at the thought.

  David and her brother, Skip, had been celebrating their high school graduation when it happened. Chelsea and her best friend, Dee Daniels, were headed home from choir practice when she noticed a light in the backroom of her grandfather’s barbershop. They had tiptoed down the alleyway and stood on overturned milk crates to peep inside. Hearing the loud drum of music banging on the windowpanes, she had started to turn away when she saw David. Kneeling on a white towel on the floor, his face filled with sweat and his eyes half-closed, he had been ramming his enormous cock into a girl whose body was tilted upward and wildly meeting his thrusts.

  To a virgin with a slight fear of having sex, she had been amazed at her reaction. Instead of leaving, she had inched closer to the window, almost unaware of Dee’s presence. Transfixed, she had watched as he pumped and pulled. She had been aroused before, but seeing his powerful body straining, muscles bulging, a new awareness had set in. Her breasts had ached. The area between her thighs had palpitated and became moist beyond the confines of her panties.

  “Let me see,” Dee had inched her aside, looking for Skip, the object of her lifelong crush.

  Still clinging to the windowsill, Chelsea had imagined herself in the girl’s place. David had gone away to college, returned to New Orleans and joined the police

  force. Those old images had returned the first time she saw him in his uniform.

  Reminding herself that he was now married, she had tucked her feeling away in the past. Now, seeing him everyday tempted her to delve into the past. She was not in love with David, but old longing for everything that girl was getting on the barbershop floor sometimes resurfaced.

  David was taller than most men she knew and carried his weight quite well. His shoulders seemed to stretch across the parking lot. The imprint of his rock-solid abs was visible when he moved. And, damn, does he move.

  Chiding herself for the lewd thoughts, she also knew her carnal craving for David was just a lingering fantasy. There was only one man in her life now, and unless fate was truly cruel, she would see him before the night was over. She looked at her watch as his image floated before her. A smile crept across her face. Their time together was magic.

  His needs paralleled her own, even if they had only spent a day apart. His arms would surround her as soon as they were alone. First he would hold her tightly against him until she felt a merger of bodies and souls. He would then use his hands and mouth to set her soul on fire.

  When her longing had climbed to a fevered pitch, every inch of his massive, bronze body would erase all traces of loneliness.

  “I know you don’t like being shadowed this way,” David’s voice jolted her back

  to the present. “I think it’s necessary, and I’m not alone. I actually think you need someone fulltime, but we both know the department can’t afford that. I’m walking you out of that courthouse and across this parking lot until the trial is over, whether you like it or not. So quit giving me a hard time.”

  Warmed by his concern, she smiled sweetly. “You’ve always been protective, even when we were kids. You were the bully basher in the neighborhood. No one was surprised when you became a cop.”

  “Bully bashing was easy back then. The most I ever did was loosen a few teeth. Now, it’s often shoot or get shot, and I’m not ready to meet my maker. This is also not the first time we’ve had problems with threats against a prosecutor. We even lost one. I don’t mind telling you, I don’t like this case of yours one damn bit.”

  “I feel the same way, but my anger and fear began when I first learned the circumstances.

  That park was our playground, our daytime hangout when we were younger. Don’t you

  remember staying out there until dark? The younger kids played hide-and-seek behind those trees. We had boom boxes all over the place, dancing, and having fun, even after the snack stand at the pavilion closed. One of us would make runs down to Mr. Bill’s store for sodas and junk food. We hated to see daylight fade on those summer evenings.”

  David wiped a massive hand across his brow. “Yeah, I remember. A lot of girls—and

  boys—lost their virginity in that park.” He grinned. “I hope you weren’t included in that bunch, especially since I wasn’t the beneficiary.”

  “I didn’t lose anything in the park. Probably because I had you and my brothers watching me like hawks.” She felt a surge or warmth and left his gaze. “I don’t know if you lost yours there, but I do remember a certain night on the lakefront when you and that Ginger girl were wrapped in a blanket. Even the little kids knew what you were doing. I was so jealous.”

  Realizing she had caught him off guard, she continued the reminiscence. “Of course, that’s nothing compared to what Dee and I saw you doing in Papa’s barbershop after your high school graduation.”

  He gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “We were kids.”

  What I saw you ramming in that girl did not belong to a kid. “We were kids and the world was not quite as cruel. We also didn’t have a ton of electronic gadgets to keep us inside, piling on the pounds. We biked, but we also walked from one end of Algiers to the other, traveling in packs. You, Ferris, and my brother always looked out for the younger kids.”

  “Yeah. When were younger, there was always someone looking out for us.”

  “It was good back then. I wish Barbara Colbert had been lucky enough to have that kind of protection.” Her afterthought was the defense attorney’s prime weapon. “Of course, if we had been in those bushes, it would have been for lust, not money. I’m sure I’ll hear many choruses of how the victim lured the unsuspecting y
oung man back there so she could turn a trick.”

  “Yeah, Barbara Colbert has a reputation down at the station. She was arrested once for taking a man’s wallet, and many times for prostitution, but she didn’t deserve what she got. If I had arrested that little punk, you probably wouldn’t have to worry about prosecuting him. I would have dumped his ass in the river before we made it to central lockup.”

  He held the door of her blue BMW. His eyes traveled up her legs and into the caverns of her bosom. “It makes me sick. I’m tired of hearing about Curtis Hamilton’s talents. He’s just a little ego driven bully who thinks he can do whatever he wants. I’m not sure how he ended up with a woman like her, since I’m sure he can have his pick. I heard his girlfriend on TV. Let her tell it, the two of them spent every second away from school together. She made it known that he was not sex-starved. He probably wanted to do some sort of deviant shit she didn’t go along with, and he went out cruising.”

  “Or they did the deed and he refused to pay.”

  He chuckled. “Colbert was a professional. They usually get paid up front. This is

  certainly not the first time a crime has been committed during some kind of sex-for-hire thing. It happens more than you know. Sometimes it’s with women like Barbara, but most times it’s those high class prostitutes in expensive hotel rooms.”

  “I know. I am a prosecutor,” she reminded him. “It’s still sad on both sides. I don’t enjoy having to prosecute a promising young black man. There are far too few out there as it is. I also don’t like the fact that most public comments have centered on her being a loser and him being a respected young man with great prowess on the football field.”

  Chelsea had been a bundle of nerves since being assigned the case of the woman found beaten and unconscious in the woods behind Napoleon Park. Her jitters tripled when the case gained national prominence following the arrest of a college football hero. Curtis Hamilton’s face had appeared, with increasing frequency, on television and in newspapers. NFL scouts had been buzzing around him since his sophomore year.

  Staggering evidence made her case

  seem airtight. Witnesses had seen Curtis Hamilton and Barbara Colbert together. One man heard her scream, went to investigate and saw Curtis running away from the crime scene, his clothing covered with blood.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time preparing for this case, but I’m still apprehensive. The golden boy is about to be smacked with the downside to fame.” She pursed her lips and glanced up at David. “Fame also means recognition. The people who saw him there had no trouble identifying him.”

  Several aspects of the case were disproportionately unnerving to Deputy Assistant

  District Attorney Chelsea Constantine. It was her first big case. The department, along with everything else in and around New Orleans, had a diminished staff and staggering caseload that had not equalized since Hurricane Katrina. This was a case that could make or break a career.

  Other members of the DA’s staff would have jumped at the chance had she turned it down. She had accepted the pressure and the risks, but that was before the threats began. Regardless, Chelsea did not want a quitter’s reputation.

  The other disturbing fact was that the crime occurred in the park close to her parents’

  home. The pressure of being targeted and advised to turn the case over to a more experienced prosecutor had set Chelsea’s nerves on end. Instead of shirking away, she became more determined to win. Fearing for her safety was not in the equation.

  She met David’s stare and leaned back in the seat.

  “Big plans for the weekend?” His eyes moved back to her face.

  “Yeah.” She smiled boldly. “The Saints are playing at home on Sunday. Isaac will be in tonight.”

  “Then I know what you’ll be doing.” His eyes briefly feasted on her chest and returned to meet hers. “Tell me something. Why didn’t you and I get together when we were younger? I was so into you back then.”

  “And I was into you, even though you were a dog back then. It sure wasn’t because I didn’t want to, so it must have been you.” She wanted to say her crush had heightened after seeing what he had to offer, but answered with a shake of her head. “You just had too much going on to fit me into the harem.”

  “That was just youth. We were all feeling it back then, but I would have gladly cleared out the harem for you. I guess it was your brother’s warning that kept me from making a move.”

  His voice dipped. “Call if you need me…for anything. I don’t have a harem now.”

  “Thanks, but you now have a wife.”

  “It’s not what you think. We married for all the wrong reasons. Now, she’s married and I’m not. Besides, I’d make that sacrifice for you.”

  The smile Chelsea expected was an unsettling stare. David meant a lot to her, but married men were not on her list, even if they were handsome quadrupled. She dismissed the sudden rush of heat, knowing only the salve of Isaac’s passion could ease her pain.

  “Thanks,” she said with a sincere smile. She blinked to escape his haunting eyes.

  “Thanks for caring.”

  “I know you’re into Isaac now, and I hope it works out, but what if it doesn’t? Would you consider the two of us getting together?”

  She tilted his head sideways and gazed into her eyes. “The but is not just Isaac. You’re married.” She reached out and touched his hand. “To me, that’s a very big but. I know your wife.

  We’re not friends, but I can easily imagine the devastation a women feels when she learns her husband is having an affair.”

  “I wasn’t talking about an affair. Just you and me. Marriages fail, and mine

  already has. She wants a different lifestyle. I’m just plain David.” He grimaced. “Lock your door.”

  She watched him walk away before turning on the radio and rolling her shoulders against the weight of a heavy week. Serious was the only way to take her job, and she did, but it was Friday and she always partied hard on weekends. A series of seductive images replaced the burdens that were on her mind. It was always hard to wait for her man to return, but the earth shattering pleasures of his arms were well worth the agony. Isaac aroused and then lovingly soothed every fiber of her soul.

  The drive to her renovated French Quarter loft was short. After a hard day’s work, she always found the hefty mortgage payment well worth the sacrifice. She grabbed a stack of mail from the box, stopped to pet her cat, Armageddon, and without checking her messages, went straight to the shower.

  The flow of warm water loosened her muscles and delivered a deluge of relaxation to her limbs. Even the relaxation could not compensate for three weeks of missing the man who brought her total pleasure. She closed her eyes and filled her mind with scenes of exquisite torture. Isaac’s face next to hers, his strong body against hers. Regardless of what the public thought, she knew Isaac was faithful. He would be love-starved just as she was. The rewards of his enthusiasm would masterfully erase her suffering.

  She had no delusions about her relationship with the star wide receiver for the New Orleans Saints. Isaac Charbonnette was a stud. He enjoyed having a pretty woman on his arm, and in his bed. Sparks of passion had ignited when they first met. Neither of them had been seeking permanence but both had wanted monogamy, making it easy to settle into a relationship.

  For now, the glory of being that woman on his arm and next to him in bed was enough to keep her happy.

  Caressing the curves of her body with lathered hands, Chelsea smiled at thoughts of Isaac’s acclaimed flair for saying and doing just the right things. He activated every pleasure point in her body, levitated her lust to boiling, and then soothed her passion until her body retched in long spasms of release. Thoughts of his knowing hands and suave bedroom aptitude brought quivers to her sensitive areas. She became profoundly aware of the height to which her need had risen.

  Growing up in a very socially connected family, Chelsea was no stranger to celebrity.

&
nbsp; She and Isaac had been in the same setting on more than one occasion, but were never formally introduced. She had always noticed him. His presence was hard to miss, but she began paying special attention after Dee caught him staring.

  “Do you know the dude in the black jacket?” Dee asked during a concert after-party. “

  She recognized the face and returned his smile, but quickly ushered Dee in the other direction. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t think I can handle Isaac Charbonnette.”

  She had gone to the game on Sunday, watched him on the field and tried to picture them together. There was no one special in her life, but football players, especially highly celebrated ones, were not on her list.

  Her workweek had started with a morning traffic jam and a meeting she had to make.

  Juggling two case files, her briefcase and purse, she hurried through the office building, rounded a corner and literally bumped into the big man with the infectious smile. Suffering through his apology, she had tried not to stare.

  “I’m sorry. Really sorry. Are you okay?” He had scooped her folder from the floor and almost knocked her down returning it to her arms. “I should have been looking where I was going. I had a business card for the man I’m supposed to see, but I left it in the car. I’ve been walking around looking at names on the doors and trying to remember. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”