The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene: Scandal Between the Sheets / The Boss Man's Fortune / Challenged by the Sheikh

Jasmine watched him, and as if he felt the heat of her gaze, he turned and looked at her. Her eyes immediately went to the strong lines of his face, especially the darkness of his eyes, the fullness of his lips and the firmness of his chin. She drew in a quick, shaky breath and her heart thumped crazily in her chest as their gazes met and held. He frowned and she felt his disapproval all the way to her toes.

She also felt something else. Cutting through all of his anger she felt an intense attraction. She swallowed when his gaze continued to stay welded to hers, unable to move. Then moments later he turned before opening the door and entering Crofthaven.

“I take it that the two of you know each other,” Brad said grinning, glancing over his shoulder at her. It had been clearly obvious that Wesley’s gaze had singled her out.

She shrugged and replied in a carefully neutral tone. “Yes, we’ve run into each other a few times.”

“And what do you think of him?”

Jasmine didn’t want to think of him at all. She met Brad’s gaze. “I think he’s…interesting.”

A few hours later and Jasmine was pretty sure Wesley Brooks was more than interesting. He was beginning to become a nuisance. Even now while she did her grocery shopping, she knew that he was somewhere watching her.

At the press conference at Crofthaven, Abraham Danforth had spoken on behalf of the Danforth family and acknowledged that the body found in the attic had been that of his long-time housekeeper’s daughter. He’d further stated that the hearts of the Danforths went out to the Jones’s family.

In Jasmine’s opinion, Abraham Danforth had handled the media like a true politician and had only perfected his squeaky clean image. He assured everyone that he was one hundred percent behind the investigation to determine the cause of Martha’s death and he wanted to find out the truth as much as anyone. While he had been talking she was aware that Wesley, standing united with the members of the Danforth family, had been watching her.

Like he was still doing.

She glanced around the supermarket. Although she didn’t see him anywhere, she felt his presence.

“Did you find everything you needed?” the woman asked her at checkout.

“Yes, thanks,” she replied. She then glanced over her shoulder to see Wesley Brooks coming up to stand directly behind her with a ton of microwave spaghetti dinners in his hand.

“Stocking up on dinner, Mr. Brooks?” she asked after accepting her change back from the cashier.

“No more than you’re stocking up on junk food,” he countered, looking at her purchases that consisted of a pair of panty hose, a celebrity magazine, several bars of Snickers and a pint-size carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

“This is energy food,” she said, deciding she didn’t like him seeing what she had bought.

“And this is energy food, as well.” He then glanced at his watch. “I hope you’re calling it a day and are on your way home.”

She lifted a brow. “And if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll have to follow you around some more.”

She wanted to tell him to stop following her and get a life. But the last thing she needed to do was make him angry; she’d never get her locket back that way.

Jasmine had decided last night while in bed that the best way to deal with Wesley Brooks was to ignore him—which wasn’t an easy thing to do.

“Don’t try keeping up with me,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she accepted the grocery bag the cashier handed her.

“Oh, but I will keep up with you and I must say I found your activities today rather interesting.”

“Don’t you have a company to run?” she asked angrily.

“Yes, and being my own boss gives me the flexibility to make my own hours and I’ve decided to work them around your schedule.”

“How accommodating,” she snapped.

He smiled. “Yes, I think so.”

Jasmine frowned. This was the first time she had seen him since she’d left the press conference at Crofthaven. Martha Jones and Victoria Danforth had become missing within two years of each other, and Jasmine had left the press conference feeling rather suspicious of that fact. She couldn’t help wondering if Wesley was letting her know that he’d been hot on her tail when she’d left the press conference for the library to research old newspaper articles regarding the disappearances of both women. While she was at the library she had also decided to check into information on Abraham Danforth’s social life and the women involved in it.

Deciding not to engage in conversation with Wesley Brooks any longer, she gripped the bag firmly in her hand and walked out the door into the well-lit parking lot. When she got to her car she noted he was parked next to her. She pretended not to pay any attention when he went to his own car. He glanced over at her.

“You didn’t ask as many questions as I expected at today’s press conference,” he said putting his grocery bag in the back seat of his car. “I was impressed.”

She glared at him. “Don’t be. There will be other days, trust me.”

Wesley held her glare, emitting one of his own. “But I don’t trust you. Ms. Carmody, and doubt that I ever will.” He opened his car door to get in. “I suggest you go on home before your ice cream melts.”

Without waiting for her to respond he slipped inside his car and started the engine. But he didn’t move his vehicle until she had angrily gotten into hers and pulled out.

Glancing into her rearview mirror Jasmine saw that he was determined to follow her to her door. She inhaled deeply, thinking it would be a waste of energy to lose her temper. If the man had nothing else to do then that was his business and she refused to let him get to her.

But a part of her knew it was too late. He had already gotten to her and it would be a sheer act of will on her part to ignore him.

Wesley smiled when he pulled into his driveway to find Imogene Danforth sitting in her car and waiting on him. He was pleased, as well as surprised, to see her since they hadn’t got the chance to talk much at the press conference earlier that day. Everyone knew that Imogene was one very busy woman, almost working obsessively as an investment banker to move up the corporate ladder. She was known to eat on the run while conducting business over the phone.

He also knew that Imogene put a lot of stock in her appearance. She always chose just the right clothes, the right haircut and the right possessions. She saw all those things as essential in succeeding in the cutthroat business world of finance.

After he parked his car and got out, he watched Jake’s little sister get out of the sporty Lexus. He leaned against his car and frowned as he stared at the very attractive woman who was walking toward him dressed in an expensive navy-blue powerhouse business suit with matching shoes. She had her briefcase in one hand, a candy bar in the other, munching in between the conversation she was having on the cell phone headset that was plugged into her ear.

By the time she had reached him, whatever conversation she’d been holding had ended and she’d pulled off the headset, snapped the phone shut and slipped it into her purse at the same time she swallowed the last of the candy bar.

“Wes, I’m glad you finally came home. I thought I would die of starvation.”

Wesley lifted a brow. “You must really be hungry to confess that you are, Imogene. I thought you promised your parents that you would improve your eating habits.”

The attractive blond-haired, green-eyed woman standing in front of him lifted a brow of her own. “I’ll start eating better when you do.” She glanced at the grocery bag he held in his hand. “So, what’s for dinner?”

Wesley shook his head grinning. “Spaghetti.”

She smiled. “That figures, and I hope there’s one to spare. I have another appointment in about an hour.”

A half hour later Imogene was finishing off the last of her microwave spaghetti dinner with a glass of white wine. She smiled over at the man she considered one of her brothers. “Maybe you need to rethink my offer of investing in this food company since you seem to enjoy their product so much.”

Wes smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve had this conversation before, Imogene, and the answer is still no.”

She returned his smile. “I was hoping you would have changed your mind.”

“Not hardly, so go harass another client.”

Imogene giggled as she leaned back in her own chair. “So what’s going on with you, Wes, other than not eating properly? It seems Mom has the both of us on her ‘worry about’ list. She called this morning and asked that I check up on you to make sure you were eating properly.”

Wesley shook his head. “Umm, that’s interesting. When I saw her at Crofthaven today, she mentioned something to me about checking up on you, as well.”

Imogene frowned. “That figures.” After a few moments she said. “But what doesn’t figure is the looks you were giving that reporter at the press conference. Is there something I should know, Wes?”

Wesley raised a dark brow. Imogene had been on the phone the majority of the time trying to cut deals. He was surprised that she had noticed him looking at Jasmine Carmody.

“Isn’t she that same reporter who’s been snooping around trying to dig up stuff on the family?” Imogene went on to ask when he didn’t answer her earlier question.

After taking a sip of his own wine, Wesley answered. “Yes, she’s the same one. And my interest in her is purely business. I’m keeping an eye on her.”

Imogene smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “Well, that much was obvious. How is keeping an eye on her business?”

“Because I’m making it my business to see that she stops harassing the family.”

Imogene nodded. “That should be interesting and I’d love to hear the full details later.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “Time’s up. I’ve got to run. Thanks for dinner.”

Wesley stood and he opened his mouth to tell her she needed to slow down and take care of herself more, but he knew he would be wasting his time. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

He walked her to the door and watched as she got into her car and sped off. After checking his watch, he decided to tackle the work he had brought home with him.

A few hours later, Wesley shut down his computer when he reached a mental block, a first for him. Standing, he stretched and moved away from his desk and walked over to the window.

He loved his new home, especially the view he had of the Savannah River from his office, his bedroom and several other rooms in the house. As a kid, the river had always given him peace and whenever he ran away from one of his foster homes, the area surrounding the river would be the first place he would go to hide.

But this evening the river didn’t deliver the peace and tranquility it normally did and all because of Jasmine Carmody. Earlier today he hadn’t been able to concentrate on what Abraham had been saying at the press conference because he’d been distracted by her. If Imogene had noticed, he wondered if the rest of the family had, too.

It seemed that his gaze had automatically located Jasmine in the crowd and had latched on to the mass of braids on her head, her sexy body and her cool and confident posture. The funny thing was that women constantly threw themselves at him, yet his thoughts had never been filled with any of them like they were with Jasmine. But here was a woman who loathed him and didn’t want to give him the time of day and his mind was filled with nothing but her.

He turned when he heard the phone ring and walked back to his desk to answer it. “Yes?”

“Wes, it’s Ian.”

Wesley smiled. “Ian, what’s going on? If you’re calling to gloat about winning the poker game last night, forget it because—”

“She’s here,” Ian interrupted by saying. “At the coffeehouse.”

Wesley raised a brow as he sat down. “Who’s at the coffeehouse?”

“The woman you told us about last night. The one you caught going through your garbage. That reporter, Jasmine Carmody.”

A frown covered Wesley’s face and he sat up straight in his chair. When he had seen her earlier at the grocery store, she had led him to believe that she was heading home and would be in for the rest of the night. In fact one of the main reasons he hadn’t been able to concentrate while working on his computer was because of the visions he’d had of Jasmine sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, wearing very little, while eating her carton of ice cream, and thumbing through the magazine she had purchased earlier. In his mind he saw her legs and appreciated just how long and shapely they were.

“How do you know it’s her when you’ve never seen her before?” he asked Ian.

“Because Jake was here when she came in and he pointed her out to me. He said she’s the one who’d been sniffing around trying to dig up something on the family. Then I remembered what you told us, so I’ve been keeping my eye on her and she’s here tonight sniffing. One of the waitresses said she’s been asking questions about Dad.”

Damn. Wesley squeezed his eyes shut and silently counted to ten. He reopened them as he stood and said. “I’m on my way.”

Four

Jasmine sat forward and rested her forearms on the table as she glanced around the coffeehouse. She was getting bored.

She’d already been here for an hour and so far she hadn’t found out anything about Abraham Danforth that she hadn’t already known. The waitress who had waited on her hadn’t been too chatty and when she had spoken, it was to sing Abraham Danforth’s praises. It seemed that everyone wanted to share the good stuff about him but no one was willing to divulge the bad.

She glanced across the room and knew the man looking at her so intently was Ian Danforth, Abraham’s oldest son and CEO of Danforth and Company. She heard he frequented the coffee shop since he, along with his brother Adam and cousin Jacob were the owners. She’d also heard that he was a playboy which wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’d been able to dig up on the very handsome man with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes.

A Duke University graduate, he had married at twenty-two because his girlfriend had gotten pregnant. A few months into the marriage, the woman had lost the baby. Somehow it had been revealed that she’d never wanted Ian or the baby, just Ian’s money. Subsequently the marriage ended in a divorce. Over the years, his sister and cousins had tried playing matchmaker but from what Jasmine gathered, Ian Danforth only dated women that he was in no danger of falling in love with.

Jasmine had even gone so far as to do research to locate his ex-wife, Lara, to see if there was any scoop the woman had wanted to share but hadn’t been able to find her. After leaving Savannah, Lara Danforth appeared to have fallen off the face of the earth.

Jasmine decided to shift her thoughts to something else—something pleasant. She thought about the interview she had done last week. The article had appeared in today’s paper and her editor had been very generous with his praise. The interview had been with a female teacher who had recently returned from Iraq and had shared her year-long experience. It was too bad that stories like those couldn’t advance a reporter’s career to the next level. The majority of the reading public wanted to know about a famous person’s sordid past and juicy present, especially if that person was a “wanna be” politician like Abraham Danforth. Those were the type of stories that could boost a reporter’s career.

Jasmine took a sip of her coffee thinking how good it tasted. There were several D&D coffeehouses around the city and she usually dropped into one from time to time to drink coffee and eat a danish or two.

She glanced around, wondering whom she could possibly make conversation with that might have the information she needed. She’d heard that of all the coffeehouses, this was the one Abraham Danforth frequented the most. It was also rumored that he usually made an appearance with his PR person, Nicola Granville, every Wednesday night to discuss strategy over coffee. Jasmine hoped that if that meeting took place tonight, she would be within listening range. There was no telling the information she could pick up from that discussion.

Suddenly, Jasmine felt a warmth slide up her spine and she shifted her gaze to the entrance of the coffeehouse.

Wesley Brooks.

Their gazes connected and she inhaled slowly. The man was frowning. Her hand tightened around the cup of coffee she held in her hand, bracing herself for the anger she felt radiating from him all the way across the room. She had never known a man who could look so good when he was mad. And, boy, did he look good. Marvelous was a better word. She would even go so far to use the word striking.

Wearing a pair of jeans that looked like they were custom-made for his body, and a pullover shirt, he looked delicious, good enough to eat or to lick all over. She blinked, not believing the direction of her thoughts but lately she’d found that Wesley Brooks had featured prominently in her sexual fantasies; fantasies she’d never had until meeting him.

She let out a long, deep sigh. So what if she found him attractive. She was a woman and he was a man. No big deal. But as she continued to hold his angry gaze, she decided it was a big deal when they each considered the other the enemy. He was determined to put himself in the path of what she wanted, what she needed the most—a news-breaking story.

As he slowly skirted around several tables to head her way, she vowed not to be intimidated by him. She lifted her chin, refusing to turn to mush as the strong, well-defined muscles of his chest and shoulders became more defined by the glow of lanterns burning on the walls. His jeans and the way he was wearing them made every woman in the place sensually aware of him as a man. She didn’t miss the number of female heads that turned to look at him.

Mercy, she thought. The man was filling her vision. He was also filling something else; a desire to release the suppressed hormones trying to spring to life inside of her. She’d always thought of herself as a good girl but tonight, this very second, the thoughts flooding her mind weren’t good. They were racy, torrid…just plain bad.

Jasmine self-consciously cleared her throat when he came nearer, and tried to ignore the way her body was reacting. Her blouse suddenly felt too tight against her breasts. She frowned, not liking the thought that Wesley Brooks could fill her with hot sensations whenever he was within a hundred feet of her. But then from the articles she had read in the paper in the society columns, women drooled over him all the time, which was one of the reasons he had a reputation for being an irresistible ladies’ man. Now that Jake Danforth was married off, Wesley Brooks’s and Ian Danforth’s names headed Savannah’s list as the city’s most eligible bachelors; bachelors that any woman would want.

When he came to a stop at her table, she leaned back in her chair and exhaled a long, deep breath. He was upset at seeing her here tonight. It then dawned on her that he was upset but not surprised. In fact, he had walked in like he had expected to find her, which meant someone had tipped him off. She glanced over at Ian Danforth and he gave her a mega-watt smile. She frowned. The man had obviously snitched on her.

She shrugged. This was a free country and she had the right to go wherever she wanted. If Wesley thought just because he was holding her locket hostage that he could dictate how she spent her evenings, then he had another thought coming. Thanks to her stepmother and stepsisters, she had learned a long time ago how to stick up for herself and not let anyone run her life. She might have little control over Wesley Brooks dominating her dreams but she refused to let him command the hours while she was awake.

So as calmly as she could, she returned his stare as she gripped the coffee cup tighter in her hand. She twisted her lips in a forced smile. “Wesley, funny seeing you here.”

* * *

There was nothing funny about it at all, Wesley thought, meeting her gaze. Whenever he saw her, his hormones shifted into overdrive and visions of naked bodies, silken sheets and thrusting motions danced in his head.

Jasmine Carmody just might be the death of him; but before he died, he wanted to do something outrageous like reach across the table, snatch her up in his arms and mold her smart-ass mouth against his.

Without waiting for an invitation he knew he’d never get, he took the chair across from her. “What are you doing here, Jasmine?”

She smiled at him. Again. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m sitting here minding my own business, drinking a cup of coffee and eating a danish. Is that a crime?”

Wesley shrugged. “Not if you were really minding your own business. But it’s my understanding that you’ve been asking questions.”

She sighed. Evidently the waitress had talked. There would be no tip for her tonight. “Asking questions is part of my job.”

“Then consider yourself officially off work.”

Jasmine’s gaze narrowed. “I’m never off work.”

Wesley replaced the frown with a slow smile, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll have to change that.”

He stood and pulled several bills out of the pocket of his jeans and tossed them on the table. “Come on.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “I said come on. It’s time you stop working and have fun and I know just the place to take you.”

To the gallows to chop off her head no doubt, Jasmine thought as she eyed him warily. She was curious and intrigued, but not stupid. And although she had no intentions of going anywhere with him, she asked anyway. “Where?”

“To the country fair that’s in town.”

Jasmine leaned back in her chair. The fair came to town every year and she couldn’t recall the last time she had gone. Suddenly her mouth watered at the thought of a candied apple, cotton candy and popcorn, not to mention the rides. She wondered what she had to lose if she decided to indulge in a little fun. It then occurred to her that she could possibly lose out on getting the scoop on Abraham Danforth if he showed up here tonight. But then she doubted Wesley would let her follow through with any plan she’d made concerning Abraham tonight anyway. Besides, after the short conversation she’d had with her stepmother earlier, she needed to do something that would make her scream, and a roller-coaster ride just might do the trick.

However, there was another stumbling block. If she went with Wesley to the fair, some people might construe it as a date.

She crossed her arms over her chest knowing he had an ulterior motive for asking her to the fair. Was something going down tonight that she needed to know about? “Why?”

He lifted a brow. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to take me to the fair?”

He smiled. “I just told you. I think you work too much. You need to have fun, live a little, let your hair down and play,” he said, reaching out and pulling on one of her braids.

He may as well have been pulling on the nipples of her breasts from the sensation that suddenly zipped to their sensitive tips. It had sent a jolt right through her. Unfortunately, her body’s reaction only proved she had a lot of nervous energy to work off so maybe going to the fair was not a bad idea.

“And there’s no reason for you not to go, unless…”

She lifted a brow. “Unless what?”

“Unless you don’t think you can handle me.”

Jasmine frowned. Truthfully, she doubted she could handle him, but she would never let him know that. She had learned the hard way to never let anyone know her weaknesses. “You’re nothing to handle, Wesley,” she lied, meeting his gaze.

His smile widened and he leaned closer and whispered, “Prove it.”

She blinked wondering how such a thing could be proven. Evidently he was used to women seducing him. To him this was all a game, a game that he knew the rules to and was well versed at playing.