He dipped his head to capture her next word with his mouth. She tasted like peppermint and temptation.
The peppermint was new. The latter part, he remembered from that fateful night five months ago when they’d crossed paths in the Garrison Grand. He’d been scoping out the competition as he worked on building his Hotel Victoria.
Sure he’d seen her before, but there had been something about her that night, something vulnerable that had called to him. Before he could say bad decision, they’d been making out in an elevator on their way up to a room.
Lips and tongues meeting pretty much the way they were now. Yes, he definitely remembered that, as well as the graceful line of her back under his hands. The feel of her fingers gripping his shoulders. All of it stirred him again with a surprising jolt.
He couldn’t afford to lose control. He needed to corral his thoughts with so much at stake with their child, not to mention the business implications of a family merger with a Garrison.
Jordan eased his mouth from hers and tucked her head against his chest as he worked to slow his heart rate. The gusts of her breaths along his neck told him she was every bit as affected by him—which didn’t help calm him.
Still, his hands smoothed along her back. The timing to woo her over would be tough for him with the preparations for opening his Hotel Victoria next month, a smaller hotel than her family’s Garrison Grand. But he was certain it would rival the Garrison property in luxury—and attract the same clientele. Hell, yes, he’d earned his ruthless business reputation honestly.
He would need that same drive now to win her over. Not only because of the baby, but also because he knew the chemistry he and Brooke shared didn’t come around all that often. In fact, he couldn’t think of any other woman who turned him inside out with the stroke of her hand the way she could, not even the ex-Playboy bunny he’d dated—and broken up with shortly before that steamy night with Brooke.
Jordan nuzzled her ear. “No lawyers.” He nipped the lobe, tugging on her diamond earring gently. “A judge. Two rings.” His hand slid around to cup the sweet fullness of her. “And a bouquet by the end of the week, because this child will be born to married parents.”
Two
M arry him?
Was he out of his flipping mind?
Or maybe she’d lost hers. Brooke pulled out of his arms so she could regain her balance in the rolling chair. Certainly Jordan’s kisses had a powerful effect over her, a large part of why she’d run from his bed so hard and fast five months ago.
The utter loss of control she’d felt with him scared the spit out of her, then and now. “Marry you?”
“Of course.” He stroked two fingers down the length of her ever-errant stray lock of hair until she thought maybe she would leave her hair that way from now on. “It makes perfect sense. You’re carrying my kid. Our families have been feuding long enough, don’t you think? That sort of contentious environment can’t be good for a child. Now that Emilio is engaged to Brittany, the rift has started to mend. We can solidify that by marrying each other and fully merging the two family corporations.”
Wow, he’d almost had her thinking he possessed a heart, right up to the last word…corporations. She pushed out of her chair and stalked away from him, toward the Christmas tree, pivoting back with a huff. “Shall I give you a club to go with your caveman orders?”
“You want romance?” His blue eyes narrowed, then turned heavy lidded, sexy. “I can give you romance. I simply thought a practical woman like you would appreciate the no-nonsense approach to business dealings.”
“Whoa. Back up there, Mr. Romeo Incorporated. You romanced me more than enough five months ago, thanks all the same.”
Jordan’s heat seared her now, as well. “Then answer my question.”
She couldn’t regret that night because she refused to let her baby ever feel like a mistake. And the sex had been beyond amazing, but good heavens, she wouldn’t enter a marriage based on attraction and business mergers. She also refused to risk a sham of a marriage like her parents lived.
“No.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “I will not marry you.”
His jaw flexed.
“Be reasonable, Jordan. We barely know each other.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“As business acquaintances who’ve sat in a large meeting maybe three times or passed each other in the same restaurant on occasion.” Strange how memorable each of those encounters seemed. She’d always noticed him, but placed him in the off-limits category.
Until that night.
That night when Brooke had been mourning the loss of her father. The loss of an image. She’d always been Daddy’s girl, running to him when her drunken mother’s barbs were too much to bear. To find that her father had lied to them all, as well…
She couldn’t think of that now. She had her own child to consider. Providing a stable home for her baby had to come before some illogical desire to lose herself in another kiss from Jordan.
He scooped up one of her shoes and tapped the heel against her mouse pad. “Yet suddenly you’ve decided to avoid me.”
“Because I wasn’t ready to tell you about the baby.” She decided he didn’t need the extra ammo of knowing why she’d run scared from his naked side.
“Or because the fireworks between us were too much for you to handle.”
Apparently he was more intuitive than she’d given him credit for.
“The same could be said for you.” Okay, so perhaps her pride stung at the fact he hadn’t gone out of his way to pursue her.
“I called you.”
“A week later.” There went her pride again.
He set her shoe down, his eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam. “You tell me to stay away, and I’m supposed to ignore what you say? Does that mean when you say you won’t marry me, I’m supposed to ignore that, too?”
He was a wily one. No wonder her oldest brother said Jordan made such a fearsome adversary in the boardroom. Which brought up yet another complication since the baby’s father just happened to want a toehold in her family’s company. Marrying her would give him that connection to the Garrison business he’d always craved.
God, she hated the path her mind was taking. But damn it, he was the one who’d said they could merge corporations. If that didn’t give a woman the right to be leery, she didn’t know what would.
“Don’t be obtuse, Jordan. I won’t marry you. We don’t know anything important about each other as people, anything outside the bedroom.” Don’t go there with the thoughts. “To base a marriage on a brittle foundation of sex and mutual business interests would be catastrophic and horribly unfair to our child.”
“All right then.” He smiled—wow, how he smiled. He shoved away from the desk and strode toward her. “Let’s get to know each other better. For our child. We’re going to be linked by this kid for the rest of our lives. It’s the Christmas season. Let’s celebrate and use this time to build a stronger foundation.”
“That sounds logical.” If she knew him better, then she could better judge his motivations for wanting to be a part of her life as well as the baby’s.
“Good, good.” He nodded as he walked by her, past the Christmas tree.
No kiss? No more trying to persuade her to marry him? That was it?
“Jordan?”
She eyed him warily as he strode toward the door, paused and glanced back over his shoulder.
“I’ll pick you up at eight tonight for our date.” The door clicked closed behind him.
Date?
She’d thought they were going to get to know each other, as in meet at the lawyer’s office to draw up visitation agreements, perhaps have coffee afterwards. But dating?
She’d just been royally maneuvered, and she wouldn’t give over complete control that easily. Yes, she could see how dating would be a good idea, however, she resented the way he assumed she would fall in line with his plans. She didn’t want the world
to know about them yet, damn it.
Time to show Jordan Jefferies that while she might be the quiet Garrison, she had every bit as much determination as the rest.
When it came to how they would get to know each other, she could make plans of her own.
At six-thirty that evening, Brooke pulled her BMW convertible past a row of palm trees and a hibiscus hedge into the side parking lot of the Hotel Victoria—eight impressive floors of brass and glass set on the South Beach shore.
The construction workers should be gone for the evening. She knew from casual conversations with Emilio that Jordan had opened an office in a completed suite where he could oversee the last stages of finishing the hotel, and he always stayed late. The place was his well-known pet project of Jefferies Brothers, Incorporated’s many holdings. So he would undoubtedly want to spend every free moment overseeing the construction.
She’d worn sunglasses in hopes of keeping a low profile. It helped that no one would expect to find a Garrison here. The world could know about her relationship with Jordan when she was good and ready.
Now she just had to get past security.
Brooke flipped open her cell phone and punched in Jordan’s private number he’d given her five months ago, a number she’d almost used at least a hundred times. The ringing stopped.
“Jordan?”
“Brooke, you’re not backing out.”
“Who says I’m breaking the date?” she retorted. He thought he knew her. She would enjoy surprising him. “I’m downstairs.”
“Down where?”
“Outside your place. At the Hotel Victoria. Could you please tell your security guy to let me up?”
His two-beat hesitation offered the only sign she’d shocked him. “I’ll be down in less than a minute.”
Sure enough, before she could step out of her car, Jordan pushed through the back entrance toward her. She tugged the picnic basket with her and slammed the car door.
His steps faltered briefly, his gaze hooking on her Little Red Riding Hood basket. “I made dinner reservations for eight-thirty.”
“I can’t wait that long to eat. I’ll be starving way before then.” She stopped in front of him, the basket between them. “Would you be responsible for depriving your baby of food?”
He brushed his thumb over the dimple in her chin. “What game are you playing here?”
She didn’t want to be tempted by his touch, especially when they would be alone for the evening. But going out in public together? She wasn’t ready for that yet. “I don’t want to go out. I’m tired and my feet hurt. I want to enjoy my dinner and relax without a bunch of curious people watching us, or worse yet, asking questions.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Let’s go inside.” He took the basket from her and guided her toward the hotel entrance.
Letting him steer her with the heat of his hand on her waist, she couldn’t deny the curiosity itching over her to check out the rival hotel of the Garrison Grand. Inside, she inhaled the scent of fresh paint, undoubtedly soon to be replaced with a more exotic aroma.
No question, this place targeted the same clientele as her family’s South Beach property, yet she couldn’t help but be struck by the décor contrast. The Garrison Grand stayed with a theme of mostly pristine white, with the richest of wood, marble and steel accents.
The Victoria fired through her in a blast of bold reds and yellow, with brass accents. Cherrywood, marble and decadence were the only decorative themes in common.
Best not to think about marble, though, which could too easily lead her to memories of the marble spa tub they’d once enjoyed.
The brass doors to the elevator swooshed open, and she stepped inside with Jordan—and more memories. Had she made the right decision today? She tried to avoid looking at him, but the mirrored walls made that impossible. “Your hotel is beautiful.”
“You are beautiful.”
“And you are not going to get me against the elevator wall that easily again, Romeo.”
His low laugh followed her as she walked out of the elevator, then she realized she didn’t know where to turn. Jordan touched her elbow and guided her left toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. He swiped his key and she found—not what she’d expected.
Wait. “I was thinking we would eat in your office.”
Not in a sitting room that obviously connected to a bedroom.
Control slipped elusively away. She longed to call for a time-out and simply plop to rest on one of the comfy buttercream-yellow and burgundy sofas or seats stationed throughout the lobby. Or better yet, kick off her shoes and take to the beach beyond the glass wall, wade through the aquamarine waters.
“I’m living and working from here now, just until they finish up the last touches to the hotel. Saves time leaving my house for every call.” He tugged at the knot in his striped tie and slowly slid the length free from his collar.
At the deliberate, sensuous glide of the silk against his cotton shirt, her stomach flipped and it had nothing to do with an acrobatic baby. “Okay, can I get you something to drink? I brought water, and uh, water. Oh, and milk.”
Let him see what life with her would be like. No wild nights at a bar. Of course he could always go to his own minibar and mix himself something to drink. She waited…
He extended a hand. “I’ll have the water.”
She reached into the basket and pulled free a bottle of sparkling water. She poured it into two crystal glasses with ice from the minibar, topped it off with a twist of lemon before flipping the lid closed on the basket again…To find him in the doorway with his cell phone in hand.
He covered the mouthpiece. “I’m canceling our reservations at Emilio’s restaurant. It seems you have dinner well in hand.”
Emilio’s? Her mouth watered for the amazing Cuban cuisine offered at El Diablo. Being a captive to her hormonal cravings really sucked sometimes. She chewed her bottom lip and stared at the basket of…She couldn’t even remember what was inside anymore.
Jordan covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “I had this assistant once who was pregnant. She ate cheeseburgers for lunch every day for a month. She vowed nothing else sounded good. You know, we can pitch the stuff in your basket and I can place a delivery order at El Diablo’s—for the baby.”
She released her lip from between her teeth, slowly. “For the baby?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” She rattled off her order before her pride could get the better of her, each delicacy filling her taste buds with anticipation.
“Got it.” His smile and wink took away some of the sting to her pride at losing a bit of control in her plan.
He relayed her order, doubled to include himself. Finally he closed his phone and ditched his suit coat over the back of a wooden chair, the wide bed visible through the part in the slightly open connecting door.
She took in the framed prints on the walls, each photo portraying a stage of construction of the hotel. All but one small family photo resting by his computer…She started toward it, curious, but Jordan waylaid her.
He took his glass in one hand and her elbow in his other. “The balcony?”
Since she could swear he’d phrased it as a question rather than an order, she decided to go along. “The balcony, yes.”
Lord love him, after she sat, he even thought to swing another wrought-iron chair around to prop her tired feet while they enjoyed the final fading rays of the day. He really was pulling out all the stops.
Sinking back into her seat, she sighed at the amazing view of the waves rolling against the private beach. “You’ve got a great piece of prime property here.”
“Thanks.”
She enjoyed the beauty of the sculptured landscaping, empty now, but soon undoubtedly to be flooded with people. “Who needs blood pressure medicine with a mood stabilizer like this?”
His eyebrows drew together. “A lot going on to stress you out lately?”
She rested her hand on her sto
mach. “I’m excited about the baby, don’t get me wrong. But the news certainly frightened me at first.” She didn’t have much in the way of positive role-modeling for motherhood.
“I wish you would have told me.”
“The thought of doing that really sent my heart pounding.” She pulled out the pins from her French twist and shook her hair loose in the ocean breeze.
“I’m that scary?”
“I wouldn’t say scary, exactly.” Intimidating. “Pushy.” That sounded nicer.
“You’re as diplomatic as the rest of your family,” he answered wryly.
Actually, she was usually the family diplomat. “I don’t believe you mean that as a compliment.”
He stayed silent, his executive face in place as he studied her for a lengthy moment while seagulls scavenged along the talcum-white shore for a late-day snack. “So clue me in to what I have done to warrant such great fear. You don’t tell me about our baby for months. After being left out of the loop about my own child, I come to you directly—calmly, I might add.”
He had a point. She stared at her feet, guilt pinching as much as her shoes. She kicked off the heels and wiggled her toes. “Uh, I’m sor—”
“Wait, hold that thought. I’m not finished.” He held up a hand. “Then I do the heinous, awful thing of proposing marriage. And when you crush my spirit by turning me down, I ask you out on a date.” He thumped himself on the forehead. “Damn. I sure am one helluva jackass.”
Laughter bubbled inside her. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. You’ve been more than fair, and I was wrong not to tell you sooner. I apologize, and I really mean it. This is simply something I’ve needed time to become accustomed to myself, but I’m here with you now. No matter what happens with these dates of ours, you will be a part of our child’s life if that’s what you want.”
“Don’t doubt that for a second.”
His steely determination sent a shiver up her spine and her arms around her swelling waistline protectively.
“When Emilio told you about my pregnancy, did you let him know about us?”
The Executive's Surprise Baby Page 2
