The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011

by Catherine Mann

  Jordan slid the Jaguar into Park behind the line of other luxury cars. Apparently her siblings had already arrived.

  She was lucky to have been born into her family’s wealth, and she worked her tail off managing the Sands Condominium Development to prove she deserved it. Still, that hadn’t stopped some from labeling her a silver-spoon, trust-fund baby. It also hadn’t stopped many two-faced people from wanting something from her. Brooke rubbed the goose bumps along her arms in spite of the temperate Miami December afternoon.

  Jordan rounded the hood to open Brooke’s door and lead her up the stairs to the massive mahogany and glass double doors. Garland and bows draping the entrance reminded her of a holiday she hadn’t found time to begin preparing for.

  Before they even made it to the top step, the doors swept open to reveal an older lady in a starched blue dress and white apron. “Good evening, Miss Brooke.”

  “Hello, Lissette. Could you please let them know in the kitchen that there will be one more for dinner?”

  “Of course, Miss Brooke, we’ll have yours out directly.”

  Noise rattled from the dining room, clinking silverware against china. Requests for passing this and that, a normal sounding family dinner.

  Little did they know …

  Jordan glanced down at Brooke. “Your face is pale. Are you all right? Do you need to sit down? We don’t have to do this today. We can keep right on with our apartment dates—”

  She squeezed his arm. “I’m fine.” Although she had enjoyed their simple dinners at his place and hers. How she wished they could keep it simple, and yes, hidden, for a while longer. “But thank you for worrying.”

  He winked.

  Her heels clicked along the tile floors as she made her way across the foyer past the winding staircase, the click, click echoing up to the cavernous ceiling. A Christmas tree—at least twelve feet tall—twinkled. Perfectly wrapped gifts lay beneath. The decorations were beyond lavish this year since Brittany and Emilio would be celebrating a Christmas wedding in three weeks with the reception held here.

  Brooke forced even breaths past her lips. All the more reason to reveal the news now and give the dust time to settle so she wouldn’t ruin Brittany’s big day.

  They stopped in the dining room entry, waiting. She took the unobserved moment to study her family at the table.

  Her brother Parker would blow a gasket. Even with the softening influence of his new wife, Anna, her oldest brother was still unrelenting when it came to his business dealings. His dislike—wow, what a way to soft-soap that—for Jordan was common knowledge.

  Her brother Adam had always been emotionally distant from all of them, only just beginning to open up since his surprise marriage to the straight-laced Lauryn.

  At least Stephen wasn’t here. One less angry brother to worry about.

  Her gaze skipped over her mother—downing a glass of wine—and settled on those most likely to be her allies. Her outgoing twin, Brittany, sat with fiancé Emilio Jefferies.

  Even with Emilio’s new standing in the Garrison family, Brooke suffered no delusions. Jordan was the power force behind Jefferies’ attempts to one-up Garrison Inc. by any means possible.

  A shattering glass silenced the room.

  Brooke jolted as all eyes shifted to Bonita, the matriarch. Her wineglass in shards at her feet, Bonita clapped her hand over her mouth and pointed a wavering finger toward the entryway.

  Perhaps Brooke should have made this announcement alone after all.

  “Mother, everybody, I’ve brought someone along for dinner. He obviously needs no introduction.”

  Brittany snorted.

  Brooke shot her twin a you’re-not-helping glare.

  Her impish twin crinkled her nose with an unspoken sorry.

  Brooke nodded briefly before stepping deeper into the room, forcing her tense facial muscles to smile, damn it. Just pretend things were normal. She paused in front of her chair at the table set for seven, ever aware of the looming man at her back. “I realize this is likely a bit of a shock, but for the sake of family unity, I would appreciate it if we could be civil adults and welcome a guest.”

  She gauged the noiseless diners around the table. Stunned silent? Or quietly accepting? For a woman who didn’t do confrontation, she figured she was making a heck of a good show. “We’ll all be seeing a lot of each other in the future since …” She swallowed down the lump in her throat and avoided looking at her mother. “Since …”

  So much for her bold approach.

  Jordan’s hand fell to rest on her shoulder. “I’m the father of Brooke’s baby.”

  She glanced back at him in a quick moment of gratitude that he was there to speak the words she found so hard to say.

  Bonita moaned and reached for her Bloody Mary resting by her full water glass while a maid still hovered around the broken glass at her feet. Where was she finding all these drinks? Her brothers usually did a better job at keeping them out of her hands. Things were definitely spiraling out of control.

  Parker’s chair scraped back as he stood. “Brooke, move.”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance, Parker.”

  Her brother kept his eyes pinned on his rival. “Damn it, Brooke, I said move.”

  Jordan’s fingers twitched on her shoulder. “Don’t speak to her that way.”

  A vein throbbed in Parker’s temple. “Who the hell are you to tell me how to speak to my sister?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to marry your sister.”

  Before she could remind Jordan she’d only agreed to date him, he’d gently moved her aside as Parker shouted, “Like hell.”

  In a blink both men launched across the table.

  The candelabra toppled into a crystal serving dish of asparagus. Gasps echoed. Someone yelped. China and silverware clinked and scattered.

  She’d seen her brothers scuffle in their younger years, but that had been simple roughhousing. She’d never seen an all-out fight before. An honest-to-God, muscles bulging, men-out-for-blood pounding on each other.

  It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t sexy. All the polish of their everyday ways negotiating deals in boardrooms peeled away to reveal the true cutthroat nature that had propelled them to the top. Their rawness scared her as they rolled off the edge of the table onto the floor in a crash of shattering glassware and honed bodies meeting tile.

  The women shot to their feet, advanced a step, then backed away. The other two men at the table simply lounged back. What the hell was wrong with them?

  Brooke stamped her heel. “Adam, Emilio, step in before one of them breaks something vital.”

  Her brother and Jordan’s lumbered to their feet as if in no big hurry to end the show.

  Adam strode past, leaning toward her. “This has been a long time coming between them. Sure you don’t want to let them just work it out of their systems for a while longer?”

  “Adam!” she warned a second before Parker landed a punch to Jordan’s jaw, not that Jordan even flinched. Instead, the father of Brooke’s child flipped his rival on his back in a move that slammed them both into the serving cart.

  There went dessert.

  Emotions swirled through her—guilt over bringing Jordan into this lair without more forewarning. Annoyance at him and Parker for not staying civilized.

  And ohmigod, divided loyalties.

  Adam sighed. “Okay, okay …”

  Her brother, the middle of the Garrison brood, nodded to Emilio for assistance. The two men made their way toward the pair still duking it out.

  Bonita whimpered between gulps of her Bloody Mary. “Another Garrison bastard.”

  Brooke grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. The last thing she needed right now was condemnation from her mother, even as much as Brooke wanted to defend her child and her illegitimate sister Cassie. Focus on getting the men quieted down first so she could sit and rest her throbbing feet. Her aching heart.

  Emilio and Adam dodged flying fists to grab
an elbow and haul the two apart, no easy task given the thrashing men were hyped on adrenaline.

  Brooke kicked her way through the shattered remains of the meal on the floor. “Stop it, Jordan. Now.”

  Somehow her calmly spoken words in conjunction with the reverberation of her stamped high heel must have penetrated his rage. He turned to look at her.

  Thank God Adam quickly grabbed and pinned both of Parker’s wrists behind his back before her oldest brother could make a furtive move to take advantage of Jordan’s distraction.

  Anna rushed past a toppled chair to stand beside Brooke, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Parker, put a lid on it. You’re upsetting your sister and that can’t be good for her in her condition.” She rested a hand on her own slight baby bump. “Or my condition, either, for that matter. Can’t you see Brooke’s swaying on her feet?”

  Brooke winced. She hated sounding like a wimp, but it did seem to take the wind out of the sails for both men. Parker eyed Jordan warily while Jordan strode back to her side.

  “Do you feel all right?”

  Not really, but the last thing she wanted was to launch another argument of people blaming each other for upsetting the pregnant women.

  Brooke chose her words carefully. “I’m upset. Who wouldn’t be? I didn’t expect that everyone would do a happy dance, but I expected civility.”

  Anna stared down her husband.

  Parker grimaced. “Damn. Sorry, Brooke. The last thing I want is to do anything that would harm you or your baby. You’re my sister, kid, I just …” He shook his head as if to clear away the fog of rage. “I just didn’t think.”

  She noticed he hadn’t apologized to Jordan, but she figured it was best to leave that one alone for now. At least they weren’t hitting each other anymore.

  “Lissette,” Anna, the ever-efficient, called, taking charge, “the dinner table is out of commission for tonight. So I believe we’ll all have a light supper out on the veranda. It’s a lovely temperate evening. Have the cook bring us something simple, whatever she can put together quickly.”

  Brooke could hear the implied part of quick, meaning they wouldn’t have to endure this horrible gathering much longer.

  Anna hooked her arm through Brooke’s and ushered her toward the door. “Let’s find a lounger where you can put those feet up.”

  “That obvious they’re swollen, huh?”

  Bonita joined alongside them with an unsteady gait. “You should quit trying to squeeze your feet into those heels. When I was carrying you and Brittany, my ankles swelled up like balloons. You girls caused me trouble from the first trimester and haven’t stopped since.” She tossed back the last of her drink, extending it for someone to refill.

  Brooke wondered if she could borrow some armor to wear around her mother. Or earplugs. How come everyone else seemed able to ignore the comments except her?

  Luckily, Lissette was otherwise occupied which sent a frowning Bonita off hunting for her own damn refill. Hopefully, the decanters would be empty.

  Brooke swung wide the double doors to the veranda. A gust of fresh night air caressed over her with a much-needed cleansing freshness. She turned to speak to Jordan—only to find he’d stayed behind with Parker.

  They weren’t throwing punches, but their intense expressions showed their words were equally as powerful. Just her luck, the high ceilings bounced echoes around like racquetballs. Every word of their exchange pummeled her.

  Parker stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I always knew you were ruthless, but I never suspected you would sink so low as to deliberately knock up my sister to secure a piece of the Garrison pie.”

  She heard Jordan deny it. Heard him tell Parker what an ass he was and how Emilio already owned a piece of Garrison Incorporated. Besides, Jefferies Enterprises could take on Garrison just fine on its own.

  Brooke heard it all. Yet still, after a lifetime of growing up in a family that didn’t know the meaning of enough power, she couldn’t help but wonder if Parker was right.

  Four

  Standing behind Brooke outside her condo door after the family dinner from hell, Jordan worked his jaw side to side. Parker Garrison packed a mean right hook. Not that Jordan planned on admitting it.

  At least he’d given as good as he’d taken. And he had to confess, after so many years of contention between them, it had felt damn great to let loose on the guy.

  Except then he’d looked up and seen Brooke’s pale face.

  Jordan hadn’t realized until then how emotional the cool beauty could be. The family’s disapproval really had her worried. He would have taken them all on if he hadn’t seen how fast they backed off once they, too, noticed how the confrontation upset her.

  Well, everyone except their sloshed mother.

  He hadn’t been predicting a red carpet reception, but he’d expected basic courtesy, more like what they’d settled into afterward during the cool—brief—dinner on the veranda.

  Jordan reached to touch Brooke’s shoulder just as she opened the door and stepped into her condo. Closing the door behind him, he sealed them both in the sleek silver and pink luxury of her home. What a strange time to realize that while he’d viewed every inch of her luscious naked body, he’d never seen where she lived. Now he realized she had been keeping a part of herself from him by insisting they always meet at his place.

  He took in the luxury living space sprawling in front of him in a study of silver, white and pinks. Definitely a woman’s domain. No question, it was stylish and high-end, but not a place where he could see himself relaxing. He had a quick mental flash of his own childhood home, as swank as the Garrison complex …

  But a hell of a lot warmer.

  Jordan brushed aside thoughts that didn’t change a thing about his path with this woman. If he let Brooke see the slightest chink in his resolve, they would be toast. Even now, he could tell from the brace of her shoulders and the way she chucked her purse onto the sofa, tension still lingered.

  He closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. He responded to the feel of her beneath his hands. His body aroused in mere seconds any time he got near her these days. But, yeah, she was definitely tense.

  Jordan rubbed his thumbs along the kinked muscles in her neck, considering all the ways a man could help a woman relieve this kind of stress. The possibilities tantalized. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with the silent treatment, or do I have to start playing twenty questions?”

  He leaned to kiss the nape of her neck, taking his time to absorb the scent of her. She swayed toward him with a whisper of a moan. Then he could almost feel the return of her resolve starch up her straightening spine.

  She shrugged off his hands and turned on her heel, her Garrison chin firmly set for battle. “Is it true what my brother said back at the house, right after your fight? Did you sleep with me just to gain a deeper toehold in the Garrison empire? Did you try to get me pregnant on purpose?”

  Crap. She’d overheard? Jordan clenched his jaw, then winced at the stab of pain. He hoped Parker was enjoying at least a couple of bruised ribs.

  “Ah, the whole Garrison-Jefferies rivalry.” He considered the best way to reassure her. She likely wouldn’t believe an outright denial anyway. And to be truthful, in the past, he’d done anything possible to get the inside track on Garrison, Incorporated. Anything to get ahead. “It’s a reality we both have to deal with. Isn’t that why you slept with me? To piss off your family? What better way to strike back at big brother Parker and your mother.”

  “How can you think that?” Her brown eyes went wide, then definitely glinted with guilt.

  He reminded himself of her pale face and kept his own stirring anger in check. “For the very same reason you believe the only reason I’m with you is to gain access to your family’s stock.”

  Sure, a union between them made good business sense. But he also couldn’t miss that the more time he spent with Brooke, the less he thought about corporati
ons. The apartment dates, with just the two of them, had given him far more insight about her than twice as many outings in a distracting public crowd could have.

  Pointedly, he held her gaze until finally she looked down and away, striding toward the kitchen in an obvious move to avoid him. “We don’t have much reason to trust each other, do we?”

  He watched her walk, the gentle sway of her hips beneath the dark clingy fabric, the hint of bare calf at the slit of her hem. His mind mentally traveled up that patch of skin to silky thigh.

  “I guess not.” Following her, he lounged in the archway linking the kitchen to the dining area, trying to hang on to the conversation long enough to address her fears about him. “How do we get past that?”

  “More dating?” She pulled out a large bottled water from the refrigerator and filled two crystal glasses. “Time.”

  “Exactly.” He’d solidified his point about dating. Apparently he’d done well enough in hiding his own restlessness. And since he didn’t want to let on that his thoughts kept straying to her possible choice of lingerie tonight, he distracted himself with figuring out what it was about this place and her mother’s home that bugged him.

  He took the glasses from her, returned to the living room and set their drinks on the coffee table. “How about we start small tonight?”

  “What do you mean?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Let’s sit.” He would make her more comfortable by connecting with her the best way he knew how. Their words might do battle, but the heat between them had always been in perfect harmony.

  Warily, she perched on the edge of the overstuffed white sofa. “Okay? What now?”

  “Do you trust me with your feet?”

  “That’s a strange question.”

  Kneeling in front of her, he pulled off her shoes and tossed the high heels under the coffee table. He sat on the sofa and swung her legs onto his lap, gripping her feet in his hands. He kept his eyes off the way her hem hitched higher, knowing he’d never survive this if he continued torturing himself with thoughts of undressing her. Instead, his thumbs worked a gentle massage along the arch of her instep.