by Girard, Dara
HONEST BETRAYAL
By
DARA GIRARD
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Copyright © 2012 Sadé Odubiyi
Published by: ILORI Press Books LLC
Cover Design: Kimberly Van Meter
Photographs: Dreamstime/iStockphoto
eBook design by Jessica Lewis www.authorslifesaver.com
Thank You.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
PART TWO
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
PART THREE
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
More Books By Dara
About the Author
PROLOGUE
The Present
“You don’t love him.”
Brenna let the words linger in her mind like the sensuous feel of the forbidden kiss on her lips. She could blame the champagne for the kiss or the party or the man, but she wouldn’t. Brenna always took responsibility for her actions and this time wouldn’t be any different. She looked at the handsome man—her would be lover—as he stood under the lights of the balcony.
He caressed her cheek and again said, this time with more certainty, “You don’t love him.”
Him. Her husband. He had a name, but she didn’t want to remember it right now. It made him too human, too real and nothing about their marriage was real. It was a business transaction, a partnership that was no longer working.
“Leave him,” her would be lover whispered, his words as tantalizing as his cologne. “You don’t need him anymore.”
No, she didn’t need him. Not like she used to. Not like the early stages of their marriage when his money and status were all that mattered. No, she didn’t need him, but did he need her? Had the roles changed? It wasn’t something he would admit; he was too proud a man. But was it right to leave him now? To set them both free?
She gripped the railing.
“When will you admit your marriage is a sham?”
“I’ve already admitted that,” she said.
“Then admit that it’s over.”
Brenna turned away, not sure she had the courage to do so. Yes her marriage was a sham—everything about it was false and no amount of time had changed its artificial sheen. How could it? From their first meeting it had all been a game…
PART ONE
Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.
Dorothy Thompson
CHAPTER ONE
The Past
Brenna Garrett was afraid of two things. A large man with the habit of barging into rooms unannounced was not one of them. She watched the intruder settle himself in front of her desk, without any attempts at civility, such as introducing himself or explaining why he was there. Instead he took off his sunglasses and pushed them in his jacket pocket. Brenna glanced at her assistant, Pauline, who hovered in the doorway. Her wispy brown hair surrounded a pale round face, reflecting an expression of dismay.
Brenna sent her a reassuring smile. At Love by Design, her match making service, she had been forced to deal with all types of people (desperate virgins, melancholy widows, impatient bachelors) and had become skillful at handling a large number of situations. Undisciplined men, while not a specialty, presented yet another challenge. Pauline nodded, acknowledging Brenna’s smile. She glared at the back of the man’s head, making her thoughts of him clear then shut the door.
Brenna returned her gaze to the large figure who sat before her. He boldly stared back. A shiver of awareness raced up her spine as she looked into the piercing darkness of his deep-set brown eyes. Arrogant, cocky and incredibly sexy, she thought. Brenna was used to quickly assessing potential clients, but didn’t like the direction of her thoughts. Unfortunately, a man like this seemed to resist typical hackneyed adjectives such as ‘good looking’ or ‘handsome’. He looked as though he’d been raised from the earth. His skin the color of a dust storm, his eyes the center of a whirling abyss, his lips too soft for such masculine features while his eyelashes curled as though a sculptor had taken special care with them. He was—in a word—trouble.
He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Brenna watched as the fine material of his black trousers moved against his thighs. She was certain that trousers shouldn’t fit a man that well. Legs were a fascination to her because her left leg was deformed. His were, no doubt, as well formed as the rest of him. Large shoulders diminished the back of the chair, while long elegant fingers gripped the arms. She redirected her attention to his face ready to deal with the matter at hand.
“I take it you’re upset about something,” she said in an ironic tone.
His jaw twitched, but he remained silent.
She resisted a sigh. He was going to be difficult. She had hoped that today would be as peaceful as the spring afternoon outside her window, spreading a ray of sunshine on her carpet, while she listened to her favorite Caribbean station on the radio. She glanced at the Jack Russell terrier puppy as he played in the corner, his leash tied to the closet door handle. She was looking after the puppy for Pauline, who planned to give it to her niece as a birthday gift later that day. She pushed the remainder of her chicken pattie and potato chips aside and leaned towards him. “Your rather grand display makes it clear you’re upset, but I’m afraid I am not a mind reader, so you’ll have to tell me the reason why.” She turned the radio off.
“I’m Hunter Randolph.” His voice was low, deep and smooth, moving about the quiet of the room like a serpent. There was no anger in his tone, an unnerving contrast against the fire in his eyes.
Hunter Randolph. She repeated the name twice in her mind. She knew about the Randolph Medical Supply Company, but his name didn’t register. She raised a brow. “Yes...okay, and I’m Brenna Garrett. If we’ve met before I’m afraid I don’t remember.” If they had met before, she was certain she would have.
He glanced around the office with a guarded expression that gave no indication wha
t he thought of her office’s peach colored walls with abstract paintings of embracing couples. The wind gently toyed with the petals of the white and yellow tulips on her windowsill, their fragrance lightly scenting the air. It was disconcerting that a man who was evidently so angry could look so calm. “No, we’ve never met.” He straightened his gray sports jacket then met her eyes. “You have, however, met my fiancée, Janice Brinkton.”
Brenna widened her eyes, but quickly controlled her features before her mouth dropped open. Janice was his fiancée? “That’s impossible. Janice is engaged to Michael Peterson.”
“She was engaged to me first.”
Brenna stared at him as the pieces finally came together, but all she could say was, “Oh.”
He folded his arms. “Now you understand.”
She nodded. “Yes, she dumped you.”
His arms fell. “She must have been suffering from cold feet. That’s the best explanation I can come up with. Why else would she come here? Maybe she was just curious.” He shifted in his chair, his eyes accusing. “Don’t you check your clients’ backgrounds to see if they are in relationships first or do you also provide married women with boy toys and married men with mistresses?”
Brenna kept her tone level, refusing to let him upset her. “Janice made it clear she was not involved with anyone.”
His voice was low. “She lied.”
“Well, liars make poor wives, Mr. Randolph. Consider yourself lucky.”
He tapped the arm of the chair. “That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“She was engaged to me and you encouraged her to run off with another man without giving me the chance to win her back.”
Brenna could understand why Janice would choose to run off. Hunter’s name fit him perfectly. There was a calm, watching quality about him that would make a person cautious. He was too patient; too calculated. If Janice had given him the opportunity to win her back, he would have. The only way to escape him would be to catch him off guard and run into the arms of another man. But would another man be a strong enough defense? An uneasy thought flashed through Brenna’s mind.
“Did you hurt him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Michael.” She couldn’t help assessing his form again. He made Michael’s slim build appear almost boyish.
“Why? Do I have blood on my knuckles?”
She was not amused by his sarcasm. “It’s not funny. With your passionate nature I know you must have been upset and perhaps not yourself for a few moments.”
He looked offended. “I do not have a passionate nature, Ms. Garrett. However, I can assure you that had I taken the liberty to make my dissatisfaction clear, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
“Where would you be?”
He didn’t reply, inviting her to create an answer.
Brenna nodded, seeing no need to elaborate. “Let’s look at this from another angle. Are you certain you were engaged or had that been your plan?”
“It was understood.”
“By whom? You?”
“I told her I would marry her when I returned from New York. Our families have known each other for years. I was only gone for two months. If she had any misgivings she could have come to me and I would have been able to allay her fears and assure her how appropriate our union was.”
“Perhaps she didn’t come to you because she didn’t want her fears allayed? Maybe she knew you would convince her to marry you.”
He looked blank. “Exactly.”
Brenna bit her lip trying to choose her words carefully. Unfortunately, she found nothing that would be subtle, so she decided to be blunt. “Mr. Randolph, she didn’t want to be won back because she didn’t want to marry you.”
He straightened clearly perplexed. “Why not? I would have made an excellent husband. I’m successful, organized, dependable—”
“Do you love her?”
“Considering you own a company called Love by Design, I am sure you recognize that emotions such as ‘love’ can be manufactured. I believe that common interests and backgrounds are the basic needed components for a lasting relationship such as marriage.”
A slow smile spread on her face. “You’re an excellent businessman, Mr. Randolph. Very skillful at giving vague answers to direct questions. However, let me make this easy for you. I only require a yes or no response. Do you love her?”
For a moment, Hunter looked uncomfortable. “I’ve known her since we were kids. I would have grown to love her.”
“So the answer is...?” She trailed off giving him the opportunity to finish the statement. He stared at her. She glanced past him unable to stare back, briefly wondering what it would be like to be loved by a man like him. Would it be a blessing or a burden? “So the answer is no,” she finished lamely.
“I would have treated her like a queen.”
“Being a queen is a tiresome and scary prospect. Perhaps all she wanted was to be a wife.”
“So she chose some lowly computer programmer?”
His tone of disgust forced Brenna to look at him. “Who will make her happy.”
Hunter tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves, his voice smug. “If he can afford it. She is used to a certain standard of living that I was more than willing to provide.” He sat back, his voice softening as he looked out the window. “She told me she wanted a man to sweep her off her feet like Prince Charming.”
Brenna raised her brows. “And you’re Prince Charming?”
He returned his gaze to her face. “No, and I wasn’t suggesting I was or am. However, as an eligible bachelor I know my worth.”
“Then you have plenty of other women to choose from.”
“Women don’t know what they want.”
“Yes, they do. Janice made her choice clear.”
Hunter stood abruptly, Brenna expected him to leave, but he began to pace instead. The activity made the room feel smaller. She discreetly lifted the window higher, hoping the air would dampen the tantalizing scent of his cologne.
“Do you know how she told me about her change of heart?” he asked. “With this.” He tossed an envelope on the table. Brenna didn’t need to look at it. She’d received a similar lace envelope in the mail. “A wedding invitation. I go away on a business trip and come back to that. She didn’t call me or consult with me. We could have had a reasonable discussion, but she didn’t give me the chance. She just ran away. Do I look like an ogre to you?” He pointed a finger at her. “That’s a rhetorical question.”
Brenna closed her mouth.
“We could have gone over the pros and cons of such a decision.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “When I finally had an opportunity to meet with her, I asked her to explain.”
Brenna leaned back in her chair. “You didn’t demand?”
Hunter shook his head. “I never demand. I try to be very considerate of others.”
She glanced at her half eaten pattie and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Of course.”
He continued, not recognizing her sarcastic tone. “She told me a lovely woman at Love by Design,” he sent her an unflattering glance. “I suppose that’s you.”
Brenna rested her chin in her hand and fluttered her eyelashes.
He scowled. “Matched her up with Michael. She said that it was love at first sight. As if there is such a thing.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “She said that she didn’t want to hurt me. She tried to convince me that she would have made me a dreadful wife.” He suddenly fell silent then raced across the room. Brenna sat stunned by his odd behavior until she saw him crouch down in the corner where the puppy was.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just give me a minute,” he said in a brusque tone.
Brenna stood and saw that the puppy had the leash wrapped tightly around his neck. She let out a gasp.
“He’s going to be alright,” Hunter said removing the limp puppy from its death trap.
“But he’s not breathing,” Brenna said with rising panic. “I should have been more alert. I didn’t even see...”
Hunter breathed into the puppy’s mouth and rubbed him and soon his shoulders relaxed. “He’s fine.” He returned to his seat with the puppy cradled in his arms. “See?”
Brenna fell back into her seat relieved. “Thank god.”
He winked. “You’re welcome.”
She laughed. “You don’t know anything about humility do you?”
He shook his head.
“What did you say?” Brenna asked, curious in spite of herself.
He blinked. “What did I say?”
“Yes, to Janice.”
He leaned back and the revived puppy squirmed in his arms and started to lick his face. “I wanted to say she was being rash and impulsive.” The puppy started to walk around his lap as if he’d found his new favorite playmate, Hunter didn’t appear to mind. “That she had no right to destroy the five year plan I had worked out for us.”
“Yes, that’s what you wanted to say, but what did you say?”
He looked down at the puppy then mumbled something.
She turned her ear towards him. “Excuse me?”
Hunter set the puppy on the ground then moved his chair closer to her desk then sat. He looked directly at her, his eyes like woodchips aflame, the heat in them reaching out to scorch her. Brenna swallowed, wishing she could glance away, but feeling mesmerized. “I wished her joy.” His gaze fell; she sat back in her chair relieved. “I only said it because she looked so unhappy and she used tears. She knows I hate tears. I said ‘I wish you joy and happiness’,” he repeated, his voice a whisper.
“That was kind of you.”
His eyes captured hers amazed. “Kind? I had no other recourse.” He dropped his gaze to the ground where the puppy was pawing at his leg and whimpering. He lifted him up and settled him in his lap. “What else could I have done?”
The fact that he didn’t know was encouraging. Other men wouldn’t have been as understanding. Brenna merely shrugged amazed at the ease in which he handled the puppy.
