One Night Scandal
Page 16
“Are you ready, Hannah, my love?” Brock asked, taking both her hands in his and helping her to her feet. “Are you prepared to go see the premiere of Winning the West?”
The production company had done extensive reshooting of the film after Antonio was fired as the director. Hannah had to admire that they hadn’t wanted their name—or the film—tainted by association, so she’d stuck it out and reshot her scenes with the new director.
“Now that I’m officially proud to have my name attached to it, yes.” She stood in front of him, letting her body graze his, tempting them both with what they would share tonight. “Mostly, I’m looking forward to having you all to myself for a few days.”
“How am I going to keep my hands off you in the car ride to the airstrip?” he whispered in her ear, releasing her hand so he could splay one of his along her back.
“Not to mention on the plane.” She eased back a step, her arms looped around his neck. “Maybe I’d better behave.”
“The plane won’t be a problem,” Brock assured her. “Didn’t I mention we’re taking my grandfather’s private jet?”
The McNeill patriarch continued to be generous to his Wyoming relatives, flying them all to his spring wedding to Rose Hanson. Hannah had never attended a more romantic ceremony than the union of the dapper octogenarian to the feisty former Harlem torch singer. They were a perfect match.
Hannah smiled, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You didn’t say one word about a private jet, Brock McNeill, or I would have remembered.”
“It’s the first of many surprises I’ve got planned for you this week,” he assured her, his gaze dropping to her lips before he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with slow, heart-melting thoroughness.
She would have forgotten about the trip if he had kept going. He still did that to her.
“Do you want to see another one of the surprises?” he asked.
Intrigued, she angled away from him to see his expression. His blue eyes were full of warmth. Love.
He’d kept his promise to make her happy, that’s for sure.
“Okay,” she said. “Yes.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, velvet box.
Her heart did a backflip. Her gaze was glued to this unexpected gift.
“I think we’ve really covered the logistics of being together,” he told her, his voice serious. Sincere.
“Me, too.” Breathless, she remembered that conversation with him nine months ago when she’d first trusted him with her heart.
“These months with you have been the happiest of my life, Hannah. I can’t imagine spending another minute without you, knowing how much I want to be with you forever. How much I want to have a family with you.” He dropped to one knee in front of her and opened the box as he took her left hand. “Will you make me the happiest man ever and marry me?”
She wasn’t sure if the tears in her eyes were making the round diamond look like a huge, glowing crystal ball, or if it was simply that magnificent. But it seemed to emit a light all its own, sparkling with promise in a simple platinum band.
There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind.
“Brock, you’ve made my dreams come true.” She wrapped her arms around him again, dragging him to his feet so they could hold each other. She laughed and cried and kissed him all at the same time. “Yes, I can’t wait to marry you.”
She felt the sigh of relief rocking through him as he hauled her to his chest. His heart beat fast, too, letting her know just how important this was to him. Their love was a deep, incredible gift. They held each other close for a long moment.
From outside the bedroom, Hannah heard a car horn and her sister shout that their ride was here. Hannah didn’t move, though. Not yet. She kissed Brock again with all the love in her heart, knowing their story together was only beginning.
* * * * *
Make sure you haven’t missed
a single installment of the
McNeill Magnates
from Joanne Rock!
The Magnate’s Mail-Order Bride
The Magnate’s Marriage Merger
His Accidental Heir
Little Secrets: His Pregnant Secretary
Claiming His Secret Heir
For the Sake of His Heir
The Forbidden Brother
Wild Wyoming Nights
One Night Scandal
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The Reluctant Heir
by HelenKay Dimon
One
This could not be happening.
Hanna Wilde disconnected the call with the dry cleaner next door and stared at her cell phone.
He was here, in Milton. Many miles and a few states away from his big fancy home—make that homes—in the Washington, D.C. area.
Not that he. Not the one who’d tracked her and tried to scare her months ago. Not the one who’d threatened and lied. No, the man in her building, on his way up to her apartment, was the son, not the horrible father.
Carter Jameson. Youngest heir to a vast real estate fortune. Grandson of a disgraced congressman. The boy whose family had employed hers back when they were kids.
Her unwanted teen crush.
Amazing how the last name Jameson could start a shake running through her that rattled right down to her bones. Her reaction arose out of anger, not fear. Though, if she were being honest, she’d have to admit to a mix of both.
His visit here meant his family had hunted her down and found her again. The last round of contacts started with letters from Carter’s father, Eldrick, then from his attorneys, all insisting she come in for a meeting. When she ignored those, the unwanted visits started. But she’d done what Eldrick ordered. She stayed away from Virginia and Carter and kept her mouth shut.
She’d already lost so much to the Jamesons—her father, her sister, her peace of mind. Now it looked like they were coming around again for one more shot.
She slipped her cell phone into her back jeans pocket and headed for the one closet in her studio apartment. It held her clothes, her cleaning supplies and, well, that just about constituted the entire li
st of what she owned. That and the photo album. If they were going to hound her it was easier to leave town for a while then go through it all again. She didn’t have any real connections here anyway, but the album was coming with her. It was all she had left of the past she tried so often to forget.
The knocking started as soon as she dropped to her knees. The rickety closet door with the broken slats screeched to a halt on the tracks. She usually shoved and pushed, half lifted the thing, to get it to open the whole way. But that would make noise and require her to move, and she seemed to be frozen in place.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. It was the only sound in the silent room.
Then the knocking started again.
“Hello?” A deep male voice, all silky and smooth, floated through the door.
She refused to fall for that sexy sound a second time. She wasn’t a teenage anymore. She knew better now...in theory. “What?”
“Hanna?”
He acted like he knew her but that had been years ago. Another time, almost another life.
“She’s not here.” She winced as she made the nonsensical remark.
For a second there was no response. Hanna scrambled to her feet and tiptoed to the door. She saw the shadow of Carter’s feet at the bottom. So, he still stood there, quiet now.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try another answer, Hanna Wilde? Maybe one a bit more believable?”
She couldn’t insist he had the wrong apartment. He remembered her name and he still had the same smiling lilt to his voice. This, the guy she’d been warned to stay away from was now hanging out in the hallway. Maybe he wanted to take a turn telling her not to disclose the misdeeds of his past. Either way, she refused to be blamed for being near him when he was the one who found her.
Taking a deep breath, she threw open the front door. Almost slammed it right into her own face but had the good sense to step back in the nick of time.
Her words cut off at the sight of him. A smile lit up his stupidly handsome face. He was tall, probably six-one or so, looming over her by inches even though there was nothing tiny or petite about her.
A billionaire born into a family of extreme privilege, the type of people who did whatever they wanted, without consequence. A long line of Virginia landowners who considered themselves Southern gentlemen, a bloodline that had been broken only by a Japanese grandmother—or so said the nasty whispers of their fellow rich people. The same grandmother who had gifted Carter with the striking combination of glossy black hair and near black eyes.
Carter was the youngest of the Jameson sons. The playboy with the carefree reputation. The one not defined by the rules as much as his older brothers because no one expected or demanded anything of him. He was the “extra” child, or that was the joke his father used to describe him. She knew about the nickname because she’d watched interviews with Carter’s old man, hating him as much on-screen as she had in person.
Carter had been living in California for almost a year now—after he’d breezed through her sister’s life...and destroyed it.
“It’s been so long.” He sounded genuinely happy to see her.
Hanna ignored whatever traitorous emotion started jumping around in her stomach at the sound of his voice. “What do you want?”
“That’s an interesting welcome.”
She could have sworn his eyes actually sparkled. She glanced at the ceiling, figuring it had to be a trick from the hallway lighting. But no, the dude’s eyes looked sunny and warm and welcoming.
This guy, the one who wined and dined her sister, made promises then left town, now acted as if nothing had happened. As if he’d lost touch with Hanna by accident, not because his father cut off all contact. He’d never really noticed her before, certainly not when she was younger and desperate for his attention, which still haunted her, but now he pretended to.
“Why are you here?” Her fingers dug into the wooden door. She held on to it like a shield, positioning her body half behind it, ready to slam it shut if he moved even an inch.
Later she would assess why just seeing him touched off a spinning inside her. Why, after all this time, her heart still sped up when he shot her an inviting look. The reaction struck her as self-destructive and wrong but realizing that didn’t make it stop. It also made her wonder if she’d really overcome those feelings of not being good enough as she’d hoped.
The longer they stood there, the more those sparkly eyes dimmed. They started to narrow a bit. “Hanna? Do you remember me?”
She snorted. Little did he know she used to dream about him. “Of course.”
His gaze wandered over her head, into the studio behind her. “Are you okay?”
“I was up until three minutes ago.”
He let out a long, labored exhale. The kind that telegraphed a this-woman-is-working-on-my-nerves vibe. “Let’s start over. My father sent me.”
The memory of her youthful crush vanished. Her stomach squeezed and twisted until she had to fight the urge to yell. “To tell me to stay away? Well, I did that. If he’s ticked off it’s his own fault, or yours, because you came hunting me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Whatever he wants this time, the answer is no.” She gave in and shoved the door. Put her weight behind it and let it fly.
Carter grabbed the edge before it crashed into his shoulder. “Whoa. What do you mean by this time? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Yep, his reflexes were just as solid as the rest of him. All muscle and long legs and perfect cheekbones... Man, she hated the Jameson family and their hot-male genes.
“You need to go.” She’d said it in a few ways now. Maybe this time would sink in.
“What did he do? My father. Your reaction is...telling.”
Carter could not be this clueless. It wasn’t just his father. It was him, too. He’d created a mess and had his big ol’ rich daddy sweep the problem away.
That was almost a year ago. Now Carter showed up, taking the never-happened part a bit too far. “Oh, please.”
“Hanna.” This time there was a bit more oomph behind his tone when he said her name. “We haven’t seen each other in, what, ten years?”
True, and it managed to feel like both forever ago and like yesterday. “Your point?”
“Normally, I need to see a woman more often for her to be this angry with me.” One eyebrow lifted. “Or can I assume my father is responsible for your mood?”
Oh, this younger Jameson was a smooth one. Calm, standing there in his slim black pants with his hands in his pockets. A short gray winter coat highlighted his trim waist and likely cost more than her beat-up car with its side view mirror held on with electrical tape.
He rocked back on his heels, as if they were having a friendly chat. She had to give him credit. Carter Jameson had never tripped through that typical gawky preteen stage. Nope, he went from young and cute back then to all grown-up and hot now. Confidence pounded off him. The mix of perfect genes and I-know-my-place-in-the-world control proved pretty compelling.
Too bad he was a lying sack of garbage.
“The threats.” She stared at him, watching confusion sweep through his eyes. Yeah, nice try. “The baby.”
The color left Carter’s face. Drained away, leaving him pale and listing to one side. “Oh, damn. Please tell me you didn’t date my father and get pregnant.”
She almost gagged. “What?”
“Look...” Carter held up both hands. “He’s... I don’t know, charming? At least that’s what women have said. I don’t get it at all but—”
“Stop talking.” She grabbed a handful of his jacket when her nosy neighbor from across the hall opened his door. After a quick wave to send the guy scurrying away, she pulled Carter into her apartment and shut the door, trapping them inside. Together. Which was her nightmare.
“Good.” Carter visibly blew out another breath as a bit of color returned to his cheeks. “You said something about a baby?”
She shouldn’t have mentioned it. She refused to travel down that heartbreaking road. “How did your father find me?”
“Uh...” Carter closed one eye as if he were trying to reason something out in his head. “Were you lost?”
She didn’t buy the act. This errand had a purpose and Carter was the only one of the two of them who knew what it was. “Skip to the part where you explain how and why you’re here.”
“Okay.” His frown came and went. By the time he made eye contact again he seemed to have gotten control of whatever emotions were churning inside him. His expression morphed into a blank and unreadable one. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say, my father asked me to come and see you. Specifically, to give this to you.”
He held out an envelope. Another envelope just like the ones his father had handed her and sent to her with messengers before. The idea of being told to stay away when she already had done just that didn’t make any sense. But the idea of reading through more correspondence from Eldrick Jameson exhausted her. She refused to do it. She would not give him or Carter the satisfaction of ordering her around and getting their way a second time.
The envelope might as well have been on fire because there was no way she was touching it. Never again. “Put that away.”
He flipped it around in the air a few times. “You don’t want it?”
He sounded stunned at the thought. She almost laughed at the reaction. It was as if he didn’t know his father and the old man’s schemes at all. There were always strings when it came to dealing with a Jameson.
“Save us both some time and just tell me what it says.”
Carter shrugged. “How should I know?”
“You’re telling me you didn’t open it? You flew here or took a million-dollar taxi ride or whatever and you never gave in to the itch to crack open the seal?” That seemed to defy human nature.