The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011

by Catherine Mann

  She edged closer, guiding his fingers. “I definitely want, but what about you?”

  “We can worry about me another time.” He tucked a finger inside the band of her low-cut panties and rubbed along the smooth skin of her stomach. “Tonight’s about you.”

  He covered her mouth with his while sweeping away her underwear. Sighing into his kiss, she kicked free the scrap of satin. He sought, found, the tight bud between her legs. His thumb teased back and forth, eliciting another happy hum from her. As much as he wanted to watch her face, he enjoyed kissing her too damn much to stop, took pleasure in the feel of her frantic hands grasping at his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin.

  Soon, sooner than he’d expected, her chest rose and fell rapidly. She moaned repeated don’t-stop urgings as she pressed more firmly against him. The speed of her response to his touch surged through him. He opened his eyes to take in the beauty of her face as she found her release, her grip digging deeper into him.

  Three gasps later, she sagged onto her back, her head burrowing into her pillow. Puffy breaths slid between her lips. And yeah, he took plenty of satisfaction in knowing how much he affected her. He might have transferred a boatload of her restlessness to himself, but it pleased him no end to see the way she relaxed into his arms now, her cheeks still flushed and her mouth swollen from his kiss.

  “Better?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off her.

  She smiled slowly. “Much.”

  He gathered her close until she settled with a final sigh. He stroked her hair away from her face while she relaxed against him, her breathing evening out with sleep.

  “Good night, beautiful,” he whispered against her hair.

  He knew how right it was for her to be in his bed. Why couldn’t she understand it, as well? As much as he wanted to take reassurance from her presence here, from her joy over the painting, he couldn’t forget their argument earlier. He’d never met anyone as stubborn as Brooke in a quiet, determined way that crept up on a person.

  Jordan glanced at the clock—4:00 a.m.

  He knew without question sleep wouldn’t be coming to him as easily as it had for Brooke.

  It would be a long three days until her next visit to the doctor.

  Brooke settled in the back of the limo after her OB appointment and allowed herself the huge sigh of relief she’d kept restrained at the clinic.

  Thank goodness she could do away with being chauffeured around now that the doctor had cleared her. All looked good with the baby and her blood pressure. She wished Jordan could have been there with her—knew he wanted to be—but he’d been stuck in traffic blocked off by an accident. He’d called once the wreck was cleared, but she’d already been on her way back to the exam room. There simply wasn’t time for Jordan to make it across town to meet her.

  At least she could surprise him with all the good news—and an ultrasound photo of their son.

  A baby boy.

  She let images of playing on the beach with her little one stir in her head. She allowed those dreams to shift with Jordan stepping into the scenario. For the first time she could imagine a future with him, a happily-ever-after where they let love grow between them.

  Love.

  The word still gave her heart an uncomfortable squeeze, but she waited through it rather than shying away as she’d done in the past.

  She concentrated on all the good news she would share with him soon. Not only was she okay to attend her sister’s wedding and return to work, but she’d been cleared by her doctor to resume all normal activities.

  Including sex.

  After their steamy encounter the night of her dream, they’d begun sharing a bed, a tormenting pleasure. She’d wanted more during those nights, yet took comfort in the strength of his arms. Without question, she slept better with him at her side.

  Tonight, they wouldn’t sleep, not for a long while, anyway.

  And tomorrow? She would worry about that in the morning. Because right now, she couldn’t think of anything other than making tracks to locate Jordan and find the nearest bed. Lucky for them both, the Hotel Victoria offered plenty of options.

  Jordan glanced at the time on his computer screen, wishing he was with Brooke rather than at the Hotel Victoria. He would have been if not for the traffic jam on the causeway that had eventually sent him back to his desk.

  He wanted to find Brooke and hear about her visit to the doctor. He’d tried to call her, but she wasn’t picking up her phone.

  He glanced at his clock again. What was keeping her? Memories of that terrible night in the E.R. tormented him. He shoved up from his chair, ready to start checking the roads if she didn’t show up soon. Maybe he’d misunderstood her earlier, and she’d simply gone to his house.

  Jordan reached for the phone to call his housekeeper just as the door began to open.

  Relief socked him. Dead center. “Brooke—”

  Except the woman in the doorway wasn’t the mother of his child. Instead, he found the last person he expected—or wanted—to see right now.

  His ex-lover, Sheila McKay.

  He put up his guard as fast as he rose to his feet. She’d been persistent the past few weeks, trying to get in touch with him. Apparently she didn’t accept rejection easily. “Sheila, my assistant shouldn’t have let you up here.”

  He’d tried to be calm and civil when he’d stopped dating Sheila over six months ago, but she’d continually attempted to jump-start their relationship. Shortly after he had broken up with her, she’d taken a job as a receptionist at Garrison Inc.—and promptly worked to lure him back with valuable insider information.

  Sheila sashayed into his work area on spiky high heels. “Your assistant must be taking a coffee break, because I didn’t see anyone except a few whistling construction workers.”

  How in the world had he ever found this conceited woman attractive? Her blond hair, blue eyes and Playboy bunny history didn’t matter. She paled in comparison to Brooke.

  He glanced at his watch pointedly. “This isn’t a good time. I’m on my way out. I’ll escort you to your car.”

  Sheila perched a hip on his desk, unmistakably encroaching on his personal space. “It’ll be worth your while to wait. I have some pretty interesting inside scoop from the Garrison camp on some stock purchasing plans.”

  There had been a time he and Emilio accepted any tidbits on the Garrisons she offered. That time had passed. He’d promised Brooke honesty and he meant to follow through on that vow.

  He thought he’d been clear with Sheila in their last phone conversation that they were done. And when she’d persisted by leaving messages, he’d made his point again with silence. Apparently subtlety didn’t work with her. “Sheila, I’m not in the market for any information you have about the Garrisons. If you’ve even glanced at the newspapers, you know I’m committed to Brooke now. Besides, any relationship you and I had ended months ago.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She shrugged her long hair over her shoulder. “You have your own in with that family now.”

  His jaw tightened over the notion of gossip like that upsetting Brooke. “Watch yourself, Sheila. You’re overstepping.”

  He rounded the desk, set on ushering Sheila out—and away from his files—on his way down to the car. “I need to get home to Brooke. She had a visit to the doctor today, and I want to hear how it went.”

  Sheila stepped in front of him, blocking the pathway to the door. “It must be tough for you, having her on bed rest.”

  Why hadn’t he seen through this woman from the start? An image of them as a couple flashed through his mind. He winced inwardly at the memory of himself then, the kind of man who didn’t always take the time to see beyond the surface when it came to bed partners.

  Then nearly six months ago, Brooke had blazed into his life with so much more than surface attraction. The heat had transformed him into something different, someone he liked a whole lot more. That knowledge made it ridiculously easy to push this
superficially beautiful woman away from him. “It’s tougher for her with the cabin fever, which is why I’m leaving now.”

  “I imagine a strong man like you is experiencing a different fever altogether.” Her painted lips curved in a knowing smile.

  Enough wasting time. He cut straight to the chase. “Sheila, I’m committed to making a future with Brooke and our child.”

  “So? I’m not looking for a serious relationship. That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” She reached to cup his neck. “You look like you need to let go and relax.”

  Her touch left him cold. No surprise. He gripped her arms, ready to move her gently, but firmly, away. “Sheila, it’s time for you to go—”

  A gasp stopped him midsentence.

  Damn it. He knew before he looked. Brooke had made it back from her appointment.

  Tears clouding her vision, Brooke jabbed the elevator’s down button again and again. Sure, it didn’t make the thing arrive any faster, but the action provided an outlet for her anger—and disillusionment.

  A traffic jam?

  She’d been an idiot to believe his lame excuse. She couldn’t help but think of how often she’d seen a similar scenario play out with her parents. Her father would always offer an excuse as to why he couldn’t spend more time at home. Her mother would cry—then drink.

  Now Brooke knew all too well what her father had been doing during the time away. Seeing his other family. She wouldn’t be so naive as to think Jordan wouldn’t do the same to her. And to do so with some painted-up Sheila person …

  Sheila?

  Wait. Now she realized where she’d seen this woman before. She’d worked at Garrison Inc. as a receptionist. Her brother had even offered to send her over to help with paperwork while Brooke was on bed rest. How damn coincidental to find her brother’s receptionist here.

  Or was it?

  A woman intimate with Jordan, yet she worked for Parker? At the least, it whispered of conflict of interest. At the worst, it screamed setup. Could this Sheila person be a corporate spy sent to scoop secrets from her family’s business? Parker had said often enough that Jordan would do anything to win one over on the Garrisons.

  Fury mingled with the disillusionment. She dashed her wrist across her cheek, swiping away foolish tears. She would be stronger than her mother.

  However, for the first time, she sensed how deeply the years of betrayal must have cut Bonita.

  “Brooke, hold on.” Jordan’s voice stroked over her a second before she felt the heat of him stopping behind her. “Nothing happened between me and Sheila McKay.”

  “Of course it didn’t.” She jabbed the button again. “I walked in.”

  Although who was to say she hadn’t arrived at the tail end of a heated goodbye. She choked on the thought and the ball of tears at the back of her throat.

  He sidestepped between her and the glowing down button. “Nothing was going to happen.”

  Right. “Has she or has she not been spying on my family’s business while she worked for Parker? You promised always to be honest.”

  She hated the way he hesitated. But she wouldn’t start crying again, not in front of him.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. From frustration? Or simply to gather his excuses?

  Jordan looked at her again, his blue eyes appearing genuine—damn him. “In the past, Sheila and I saw each other. And yes, over the last few months she has brought information in an attempt to patch things up.” He held up a finger to stop her from speaking. “But I have not slept with her since the first time you and I were together. Something changed for me that night. I didn’t fully understand it then. I just knew no one interested me once I’d been with you.”

  His words rang true. Except …

  “How do I know if I can trust you?”

  He’d lied to her about the newspaper leak. He’d easily hid the truth about her mother’s intervention. Although he’d made an eloquent case for why he’d tried.

  Bottom line, she didn’t want to be in a relationship full of secrets. Even if it cost her the family she’d just begun to dream about.

  “Brooke …” He cupped the nape of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. “It’s not good for you to upset yourself.”

  “No need to worry about me or the baby. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health today.” She thanked God and all the saints for that. How could any woman have handled that scene in Jordan’s office without some serious stress?

  The sight of that viper’s hands on him punched a hole clean through her.

  “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. That’s great news.” A smile creased his handsome face. “Come on. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

  Lord, she was tempted. His words sounded logical, his smile heartfelt. She wanted to believe him, which scared her most of all. But she couldn’t cave to temptation. Besides, she had to tell Parker about the leak so he could make sure Sheila never set foot inside Garrison, Incorporated ever again.

  Admitting that Parker had been right about Jordan all along hurt her pride almost as much as her heart. If only she could rest her head on Jordan’s shoulder and give him a chance to persuade her.

  The swoosh of the elevator doors opening cut through the silence, breaking her free of the momentary weakness that could lead her to lean into him. She shook off the allure of his looks, his charm, and whatever it was about him that seemed to hold her captive.

  Despite what he thought about her seeming weakness around her family, she had always protected herself with space and distance, quietly insulating her heart from the jabs of those closest to her rather than fighting with angry words. She might not argue with him, but she would damn well think about this before sharing another ounce of herself with him.

  Brooke inched away from him, pivoting back into the elevator. “I need time alone to mull this over.”

  “Fine.” He held the doors open with flattened palms. “I’ll stay out of your way at home tonight.”

  She knew if she walked into his house again she would end up in his bed. “I’m going to my condo. I can take care of myself now, remember? I’ve given you what you wanted these past few weeks with dates and getting to know each other. Now give me what I need. Space.”

  Brooke jabbed the close button. Thank goodness he took the hint and released the doors.

  The elevator music swaddled her in claustrophobic memories of another time, another elevator, she and Jordan so hungry for each other.

  As the chimes dinged with each passing floor, she realized her triumph would be short-lived. With her sister and Emilio’s wedding only two days away, Brooke would see Jordan tomorrow night at the rehearsal dinner.

  And the next day, she would face him as she came down the aisle in a church. Even though she wouldn’t be the bride, the symbolism of the moment would be damn near unbearable with her heart already breaking.

  Ten

  Jordan popped a caviar canapé in his mouth at the reception, his mind still full of images of Brooke at the church service. She had never looked so beautiful to him as she did walking down the aisle this afternoon at the wedding.

  Too bad the service had been for her sister and his brother. But as the maid of honor, Brooke had still been making her way toward him. Her Christmas red dress skimming her body. Hair swept up. A small bouquet shielding her stomach.

  He’d barely noticed the bride in her beaded gown and veil—well, other than her train so long it could have clothed a couple of people. No. His attention had focused soundly on Brooke as she stole his breath then, and at the reception now.

  He and Emilio had spent most of the evening before having a brother-to-brother chat after the bachelor party. They’d discussed the Sheila McKay debacle and the need to sit down with Parker soon to clear the air on that subject.

  His sibling had also offered some words of wisdom about pursuing Brooke. Namely patience and honesty. Brooke was without a doubt the most sensitive of the Garrison clan.

&
nbsp; Even at the reception on the Garrison estate, he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she stood on the veranda talking to her sisters-in-law. They all wore the holiday crimson dresses, Brooke’s higher waistband for her expanding stomach the only difference in the gowns. Their smaller rose bouquets lay discarded along the patio wall now that staged photos were complete. The Christmas themed wedding reminded him of the holiday he longed to spend with her. The gifts for her and the baby he’d wanted to share.

  Reaching to snag another hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter, Jordan nodded to Brandon as he strode by to claim his fiancée from the group of women. Jordan got good vibes from Brandon and Cassie after the way they’d played host and hostess to him. His memories of Brooke in the Bahamas kept him hopeful he could salvage some of the relationship they’d been working toward.

  Except she was still keeping him on the deep freeze. No talking beyond polite exchanges in front of others. Blatant avoidance of any alone time.

  She looked gorgeous, but tired. Moonbeams and the tiny white Christmas lights strung throughout the shrubbery accented the shadows under her eyes that no one would see except for somebody who knew her well.

  Footsteps behind him shook him free. He turned to find Parker approaching, thrusting a drink his way. Given the dry ceremony, he knew the glass wouldn’t contain more than sparkling water. Good, since he needed to keep his mind clear. A seemingly subdued Bonita Garrison had behaved so far during her day out of the rehab clinic. She’d even been polite in a brief—very brief—exchange with Cassie and Brandon.

  But he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  Jordan took the drink. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Parker leaned back against the stone wall littered with poinsettia and rose arrangements. “I hear from Brooke that you and my receptionist Sheila McKay had a meeting this week.”

  Jordan tensed, unwilling to go another ten rounds with Parker at a family shindig. “Believe it or not, Emilio and I were just discussing the need to sit down and have a talk with you about Sheila.” Aka the witch. He tried not to harbor such extreme ill will against a woman, but in Sheila’s case, he would make an exception. “I thought Brooke would wait until after the wedding to tell you—to reduce chances of an uproar at the big event.”