He steered the car down the narrow drive and parked beneath a brilliant red maple. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he faced her, resting his arm along the back of the seats. "I'd say you're exaggerating a little, wouldn't you?"
"No, Jake, I wouldn't. You've danced me into swimming pools, sent a stripper to interrupt my speech at the civic club…" as she remembered, she grew angrier "…set off the smoke alarm at a hotel where I was staying. I had to run outside in the middle of the night!"
"Ah, yes. You were with your college debate team," he recalled, "visiting my campus." He barely suppressed a grin. "When I found out you were going to be there, I thought I'd welcome you."
"By videotaping me in my nightie?"
He furrowed his brow as if in deep concentration. "It was some pink ruffled thing, wasn't it? Came to about midthigh? And you had foam rubber tubes wound up in your hair."
"What happened to that videotape?" she demanded sharply, her anxiety renewed. "I worried for years that it would show up on a screen somewhere." A Rowland Insurance business meeting, for example, she thought, horrified at the prospect.
"No, no, that tape's for my own private collection." Mischief lurked again in his eyes.
"That's it!" She threw her hands in the air. "I can't work with you." Unbuckling her seat belt, she opened the car door.
"Brianna, wait."
Angrily she strode through crunching leaves and snapping twigs, beneath gold-leaf branches and past needle-sharp firs, her blood roaring in her head. One more minute with Jake would surely kill her! Unless she killed him first.
Heavy footsteps thudded and crackled; a strong hand clamped around her arm. "Brianna!" He turned her to face him. "Do you really think I'd show that tape to anyone?"
"Anything for a laugh."
"Give me a little more credit. I'm beyond practical jokes. I swore 'em off years ago."
"It's high time you swear off your teasing, too."
His hands tightened on her arms, and his face darkened. "I could say the same to you."
"I don't tease you."
"You do, Brianna," he charged, his gaze harsh and unyielding. "You do."
The intensity of his stare diffused her thoughts into a visceral whirl—warming her, blaming her, scaring her. "When?" she asked in a bemused whisper.
"Right now. You have to know that all I want to do is take you to the nearest bed and finish what we started."
Her blood rushed. Her heartbeats shook her. "I told you not to talk about—"
"You can't get naked in a man's arms and do the things we did," he said forcefully, "then walk away and think he'll forget about it. He won't. I won't."
Her throat tightened. From his perspective, she had teased him. And she had no doubt that he wouldn't forget. She certainly wouldn't. Not ever. She'd wronged him. She owed him…
What was she thinking? Abruptly she pulled back from his grasp, struggling to reclaim her common sense. How, how did he always make right seem wrong and wrong seem so right? He was a danger to her, the worst kind of danger. She owed him nothing. What happened Friday night had been as much his fault as hers.
"There's a law against harassment of this kind," she warned him, lashing out in self-defense. "You'd better learn it, now that you're my boss."
"If being your boss means I can't talk honestly with you, then I won't take the job."
Her lips parted. "But you can't quit!" Not for a moment did she doubt that he would. "The company is depending on you. So is the town. And Evan!"
He took a menacing step closer. "Then don't ask me to pretend I don't want you."
Warm reaction sizzled through her, and she had to remind herself that he wanted her body, not her. Sex. Just sex. But that distinction was rapidly dwindling in significance as his potent attraction kept growing stronger. She managed a choked whisper, "Take me home."
He stared darkly at her for another moment, then turned away. Expelling his breath in a long hard rush, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and dropped his head back to stare up at the sky.
Confusion roiled in her as she watched him grapple with something she couldn't fathom. Sexual frustration, she guessed, but also the aggravation of having his will thwarted. She supposed very few people did that.
Slowly, cautiously his gaze lowered to hers. "Okay. If I have to treat you as a business associate, I will. If I can't mention the fact that we almost made love, that just holding you and kissing you almost made me come without ever getting inside you…" his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper "…which is where I want to be, Brianna." He paused and took a breath. "Then I won't mention it. But there will be times when I'm looking at you and I won't be thinking about work. No law or agreement between us is going to change that."
Drawing slowly away from her, he turned and stalked back to the car. Brianna stayed where she was, afraid to move, afraid her legs might give way beneath her.
He threw open the trunk and grabbed a few bags. "Are you coming inside or not?"
"Inside?" The word suddenly sounded so sexual. She realized then that beyond the cluster of Douglas firs was a house. A rustic log cabin. "Where are we?"
"A hunting lodge." He slammed the trunk. "I rented it."
"You rented it?" Would he never stop surprising her? "For how long?"
"The day." His eyes met hers. "But we can get it for the night, too."
She shook her head in refusal, but a surprising wistfulness overtook her. What a way to spend the evening—alone with him in this picturesque little cabin, taking care of unfinished business— Abruptly bringing herself back to reality, she rehashed the reasons why she could never do that. A night or two in Jake's arms couldn't be worth permanently losing Evan. And because, for her, Jake had always been the devil incarnate: he spoiled her best-laid plans, lured her with temptation, made wrong seem right and generally tried to shove her down the road to ruin.
But she'd already been down that road. She'd lived there, thanks to the man who had played devil to her mother.
No, Evan was the kind of man Brianna needed, a man who couldn't lead her down the wrong path even if he tried. Which of course, Evan would never think of doing.
"So," she called out, squaring her shoulders with false bravado, "have you agreed to my terms?"
Jake halted near the cabin door, his arms loaded with photo albums and training manuals. "Your terms?"
"No practical jokes, no teasing, and we keep our relationship strictly business."
His lips closed in a straight, firm line. He looked annoyed.
She raised her brows, holding her ground. "Agreed?"
"I already told you I've sworn off jokes, and I'll try not to tease. As far as our relationship goes—" he paused, weighing his words "—we'll keep it any way you want it." He produced a key, unlocked the cabin and threw the door open.
Brianna supposed that would have to do for an agreement. What choice did she have, really?
As she contemplated her options—or lack thereof—he yelled from the doorway, "Break's over, Ms. Devon. I'm calling the meeting to order. Get your butt in here."
* * *
5
« ^ »
The hands of his watch were barely reading four o'clock when Brianna rose from her chair at the table cluttered with photo albums. "It's quitting time."
She insisted that he drive her home immediately. Quitting time. As if she had to punch a clock.
Jake knew he shouldn't let it bother him. She had spent the entire afternoon working. Despite the secluded intimacy of the cabin, their cozy lunch topped off with Amish apple pie, the blazing fire he'd built in the hearth and the neatly made bed in the corner—which she never ventured anywhere near—she'd focused entirely on his impersonation of Evan.
Business. All business.
Even so, Jake had found the afternoon surprisingly enjoyable. When she spoke about her co-workers she lost her cool restraint, her voice softened into gentle cheerfulness and her hazel eyes sparkled with droll humor. He'd seen and hear
d her this way a hundred times, but always from afar, always from the outside looking in. This time she spoke not to Evan or to her friends but to him.
He hadn't known how pleasurable being in the direct sunlight of her friendliness would be. He hadn't known how deeply she would penetrate him, how she would warm places inside of him.
Her announcement of quitting time had stunned him, like ice water dashed over a sunbather. He felt almost as raw and shaken as he had the previous Friday night, when she'd stopped their lovemaking by calling him another man's name. He still felt the jolt from that. And now, quitting time.
What the hell did she see in Evan that was so lacking in him? More than ever, Jake wanted to know. Because the thought that he might never make love to her, might never taste her sweetness again, might never burn in her fire, had become intolerable.
He found himself grinding his teeth on their drive home.
The moment Jake left her at the curb of her house, Brianna headed for a cool shower to soothe the heat that had been radiating under her skin all day—sometimes from anger, but mostly from the unrelenting sexual power emanating from Jake. How she'd managed to distract herself and him with business, she'd never know. His husky words and bold stare so easily stoked her heat.
She whispered a thankful prayer that she'd have the weekend to prepare for their next confrontation. At least, she hoped she'd have the weekend.
Then, again … what would he be doing until Monday?
Curiosity took hold of her. Everywhere she went that Saturday and Sunday, she watched for him—in the grocery store, the bank, the church, knowing that his activities would reflect directly on Evan.
What if Jake was spending his time with a woman from town or from the office? Surely he wouldn't enter into a relationship pretending to be Evan … would he? Her anxiety level rose. She hoped that if Jake needed a woman, he'd at least fly out of town to find one.
Oddly enough, she found no comfort in that possibility.
In sore need of distraction, she joined Chloe for Sunday brunch at the Victorian inn she managed. On a private glassed-in porch where they sat with cappuccino, crescent rolls and mushroom-spinach quiche, Chloe asked, "So how's your relationship with Evan coming along?"
Brianna almost choked. She'd told Chloe the previous week that she hadn't gone through with her seduction after their makeover Friday night. She had not mentioned that Jake had been there, nor had she confided anything about the embezzlement and impersonation. Though she loved Chloe dearly and knew she could be trusted with most things, these secrets were too important to trust to anyone.
"I haven't seen much of Evan lately." And she hadn't thought about him much, either, she realized. Of course, she'd been so terribly distracted by Jake…
Chloe shook her tousled auburn locks. "I don't understand why you didn't go through with your plan Friday night. Are you sure you don't want to see a sex therapist?"
"I don't need a sex therapist!" At least, not when I'm with Jake. The thought hit her from out of nowhere. But it wasn't a fair deduction, was it? She'd gone that Friday night with seduction on her mind. If Evan had been there instead, she would have experienced the same slow burn of sexual desire … wouldn't she? Thoughts of Evan would now be tormenting her late at night … wouldn't they?
Chloe finished off the last of her quiche. "I think you need to let him know how you really feel. If you can't talk to him, put it in a letter."
Brianna froze with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth. She had written him a letter—and had tossed it into the interoffice mailbox, certain that Maude would forward it to him at his unknown address overseas. But Cy Rowland forbade any form of communication with Evan, which meant that her letter—her very personal letter about intimate problems—could end up in Jake's hands!
By the time she and Chloe had finished their brunch, the idea of Jake reading that letter had become too humiliating to contemplate. Praying that he hadn't read it yet, she decided to stop by the office and take it out of the mail pile—which she hoped to find on Maude's desk.
As she drove down a back street toward the office, a beige Mercedes passed her. Jake was behind the wheel. And beside him, in the passenger seat, was a redheaded woman.
Brianna stared through her rearview mirror as the Mercedes drove beyond her line of vision. Jake was with another woman. It didn't mean he was out on a date with her, Brianna told herself. They could be friends, or even relatives. But knowing Jake, that seemed highly unlikely.
She was stunned. Despite his reputation as a ladies' man, she hadn't really expected him to be with a woman. She felt hurt, as if he had betrayed her, although she had no claim on him whatsoever. She felt … she felt … terrible.
And it had nothing to do with the impersonation or the fact that Jake probably wasn't staying in character. It had everything to do with the thought of him holding and kissing another woman the way he'd held and kissed her.
After picking up the systems analyst from the Columbus airport—a tough old bird with cherry red hair, a penchant for cigarillos and an IQ of at least 200—Jake explained the nature of the computer problems. There'd been an attempted embezzlement, he'd told her, swearing her to confidentiality as he drove her to a hotel.
On his way home, his cellular phone rang, and he was relieved to hear Evan's voice cursing the French authorities, the embezzler who'd made an ass out of him and the idiots running the hotel where he was being kept. Only after he'd damned them all to hell did Jake pose his question.
"Are you ready to tell me what the hell's going on with the business?" The silence that followed made Jake's lips compress. "Talk to me, Ev. I just spent one hell of a weekend going over your books. The company's finances were pretty bad before the embezzlement ever took place."
"They're not as bad as they look," Evan argued. "This is just an awkward time for the company, that's all."
"An awkward time? Your cash reserve is so low you wouldn't be able to cover losses for even a quarter of the business on your books."
"A temporary problem because of a recent growth spurt."
"It's called spreading yourself too thin. You're in such a hurry to grow that you went after accounts too large for you to service. The premiums aren't enough to pay for the extra manpower, let alone cover the potential losses."
"Back off, Jake. Cy asked you to help us out of a tight spot, not dig your nose into my business."
"The old man doesn't know the risk you're taking, does he?" Again, a heavy telltale silence fell. "Why doesn't he know, Ev? He used to be on top of everything. How could he not know that you're close to losing your insurance license?"
"He hasn't been very involved in the last couple years," admitted Evan. "He gets confused. Tires too easily."
"Are you talking about the Cy I know?" Jake couldn't believe that his iron-willed grandfather could ever be anything less than a master of the game. Concern tightened like a band around his chest. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's just getting old. I've been taking on more and more responsibility. You didn't want any part of it, remember?" After another tense pause, he said, "Cy doesn't need to know every little problem that crops up."
"Every little problem?" A humorless laugh escaped Jake. "As long as you don't care about Rowland Insurance going under, I guess you can consider these problems 'little.'"
"Of course, I care! I've spent years building up the business. The decisions I made were in the best interest of the company. I'm counting on investments to supplement the reserve until we build up the premium base."
"Your investments are another matter. Why did you invest so much in speculative stock? You're breaking insurance regulations and taking a hell of a gamble."
"Don't preach to me. I was playing the stock market before you even knew that money was supposed to be made as well as spent. This is my company, Jake, and I don't want you messing with it."
"You might consider the company yours, but it belongs to the other stockholders as well."
"
We didn't bring you in to analyze my effectiveness as CEO. Just play the part you were hired for."
"Okay. I'll just twiddle my thumbs in your office until you find a way out of the embezzlement charges. Meanwhile I'm sure Cy will be giving you a call about these deficits in your reserve and your high-risk investments."
"For God's sake, don't go worrying Cy. He'll have the whole board in an uproar. All I need is time."
"Either I implement the changes that have to be made or I turn the matter over to Cy. The choice is yours."
"You'll give him a heart attack, damn it! But you don't care, do you? As long as you're free to go and do whatever you please, why should you worry about the old man?"
"Which will it be, Ev? Cy or me?"
After a combustible pause, a blown out breath sounded across the wire. "Okay. You win. Go ahead and do whatever you can to increase the reserve. There won't be much you can do with the investments—they're too low to sell right now. But I'm sure they're on their way up. And, ah, Jake…" In a greatly humbled tone, Evan murmured, "Don't mention the problems to anyone else, either. Wouldn't want the employees in a panic."
"Nobody here will know."
"That includes Brianna, doesn't it?"
Jake's hand tightened again on the receiver. "Don't you think we can trust her with the truth?"
"I don't want her to know. She'd worry more than anybody. She thinks the employees are her little chicks and she's their mother hen."
"Afraid your halo might get tarnished, Ev?"
"Get off my back, Jake. I'm going through enough as it is." Evan's voice held a certain edge that told Jake he'd been pushed to his limit. An old protectiveness slid into place. Throughout their boyhood, the death of their parents and the endless parade of servants, they'd had only each other to count on. Jake's moral support of Evan had often made the difference between Evan handling a problem or caving in under its pressure. Jake knew he could deal with a lot more adversity than his brother could.
HIS DOUBLE, HER TROUBLE Page 7
