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“Yes and even Dad mentioned he would be stopping by.”
Wesley raised a dark brow. In all the years that he and the Danforth males had been playing cards together, Abraham Danforth had never put in an appearance. On the other hand, Harold would drop by occasionally to join the game.
Ian must have read his thoughts because at that moment he said, “Surprised the hell out of me, too. But then I guess running for the senate means you have to start playing the role of devoted father,” Ian said somewhat bitterly.
Wesley knew that all of Abraham’s children—Ian, Adam, Reid, Marcus and Kimberly—had nothing but unhappy memories of a strict and cheerless childhood that had mainly been spent at boarding schools after their mother had died. They had spent most of their holidays with their uncle Harold, who became a father figure to them, and the only reason they had agreed to rally to support their father in his bid for the senate was because Harold, who they all adored, had asked them to.
Because Wesley had also lived in Harold and Miranda’s home, he and Abraham’s five children, as well as Harold and Miranda’s four—Jake, Tobias, Imogene and Victoria—had grown up close and fiercely loyal to each other.
Wesley then thought about Victoria, Harold and Miranda’s youngest daughter. Five years ago at the age of seventeen she had been reported missing. Although the Danforths had never given up the search to find her, the police had closed the case on her disappearance.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Come ready to lose your money,” Wesley said.
“Like hell I will,” Ian said laughing as they ended their conversation.
Wesley hung up the phone smiling. His smile faded when he noticed that he was still holding the locket. A part of him would not be satisfied until he returned it to its owner.
Veronica Strongman watched as Jasmine paced back and forth in her living room, obviously clearly agitated. “Walking a hole in the floor won’t help, Jazz,” Ronnie decided to say moments later when Jasmine continued her pacing.
Jasmine stopped and met Ronnie’s gaze. “I want that big break, Ronnie, and I believe the Danforths will give it to me. Think of everything that has happened since Abraham Danforth kicked off his campaign—the corpse of a young woman was discovered during renovations at the Danforth family mansion, as well as me finding out that Jacob Danforth had a love child. But so far neither has turned into the earth-shattering story that I’m looking for. Then I hear about Abraham Danforth’s computer getting repaired, hoping to gather something from that, I still come up with nothing.”
Jasmine slumped down on the sofa. “And then to top things off, I’ve lost the most precious thing I’ve ever owned. That locket means everything to me and I want it back.”
Ronnie nodded. “Chances are it’s somewhere on Wesley Brooks’s property and he hasn’t seen it yet.”
Jasmine raised hopeful eyes to her friend. “You think so?”
“Yes, and all you have to do is find out the next time he won’t be home.”
Jasmine sighed deeply. “What if he locks his gate this time?”
Ronnie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Chances are he won’t. I suggest that we figure out the times he won’t be at home, with a little more accuracy than before, then go back and search the grounds for it. I’ll even help you.”
Jasmine’s face lit into a smile, the first since she had gone to her father’s house for dinner earlier that day. “Thanks, Ronnie. I won’t be able to get a good night’s sleep until my locket is back around my neck where it belongs.”
Two
Wesley tossed aside the papers he had been reading when the buzzer sounded on his desk. He quickly picked up the phone. “Yes, Melinda, what is it?”
“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Brooks, but you asked that I put Bruce Crawford through the minute he called.”
Wesley sat up straight in his chair. He had spoken with Crawford only yesterday. Was it too much to hope that he had gotten a lead already? “Thanks, Melinda, please put him through.” He took a long swallow of coffee while he waited for his secretary to make the connection.
“Bruce?” he said, when the man’s booming voice came on the line. “You’re calling back already?”
“Yes, and next time give me something harder to do. What you wanted was a piece of cake. I knew it the moment I saw that locket.”
Relief coursed through Wesley making him grin. “I’ll remember that the next time. So what did you find out?”
“Basically just what I told you yesterday. That locket is an heirloom dated back to the early eighteen hundreds, pure gold. The style is…”
Wesley wasn’t interested in the style of the locket. He wanted to know anything Bruce could tell him about the owner. “What about the person who owns the locket?” he interrupted by asking. “Could you find out anything about her?”
Bruce chuckled. “As a matter of fact, yes. I noticed the clasp had been replaced. There are a limited number of jewelers who would work on a piece this valuable. It seems that same locket was taken to a jeweler for repair of the clasp about a year ago. Luckily the man who owns the repair shop still had the paperwork. The owner of the locket is a woman by the name of Jasmine Carmody.”
Wesley frowned, wondering where had he heard that name before. “Jasmine Carmody?”
“Yes, Jasmine Carmody, and I have her address if you need it.”
Wesley lifted a brow. “She has an address?”
Bruce chuckled again. “Of course she has an address. She has to live someplace, doesn’t she?”
Not necessarily, Wesley started to say since most homeless people didn’t reside in any one place. But instead he said. “Yes, I suppose. So what address do you have for her?”
Again Wesley was taken aback when Bruce rattled off Jasmine Carmody’s address. It belonged to a very upscale apartment complex off Abercorn Street in downtown Savannah. “Are you sure this is the correct address?”
“That’s the address indicated on the work-order invoice. I was able to get a copy of it and I’m looking at it as we speak. There’s even a home telephone number, as well as a business number and mobile number.”
Wesley began rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly feeling tension building there. None of what Bruce was telling him made any sense. Why would a homeless person be living in an upscale apartment and have home, business and mobile phones? “Would you give me those numbers, please?”
Without asking any questions, Bruce provided him with the information. “Anything else you want to know, Wes?”
This is one that I’ll have to figure out on my own, Wesley thought. “No, that’s about it. I appreciate all the information you were able to find out. I owe you one, Bruce.” A few minutes later, he and the other man ended their conversation.
Wesley leaned back in his chair and studied the address and the phone numbers he had written down. It seemed that his mystery lady was becoming more mysterious by the minute. It also seemed his mystery lady was not homeless.
Carmody? Now where had he heard that last name before? He remembered attending a charity benefit once and meeting a Dr. James Carmody, a well-known orthopedic surgeon in the city. He also remembered meeting the man’s wife and two daughters. Mrs. Carmody had all but shoved her daughters in Wesley’s face, letting him know the two young women were ripe for marriage if he was interested.
He hadn’t been interested then and he wasn’t interested now. Marriage was definitely the last thing on his mind, although he had to admit that Jake seemed pretty damn happy with it. It still amazed him that his best friend could so easily slip into the role of father and husband like he was made for it.
Thinking of his friend made Wesley recall that Jake had also been in attendance at the charity benefit that night. Jake was better at remembering the names of people than he was, so maybe he ought to run the name by Jake and…
Something suddenly clicked in Wesley’s mind: a conversation he’d had with Jake and Larissa just a few weeks ago when they’d told him about a newspaper reporter who had been the one to find out about Jake being the father of Larissa’s three-year-old son, Peter. The reporter had threatened to blow the story wide open. Since Jake hadn’t known he had a son, Larissa had done the smart thing in going straight to Jake before he had a chance to read it in the newspapers.
Jake had immediately done the honorable thing and asked Larissa to marry him. She’d been reluctant at first, but then she had eventually agreed that it was in the best interest of their son for her and Jake to marry. What might have begun as a marriage of convenience between Jake and Larissa was now a marriage of love. There was no doubt in Wesley’s mind that his best friend was deeply in love with his wife.
Again, Wesley racked his brain as to where he had heard the name Jasmine Carmody before. He seemed to remember that the reporter who had dug into Jake and Larissa’s past had been named Jasmine something.
Deciding to solve the puzzle once and for all, he picked up the phone and placed a call to Jake. Less than ten minutes after talking to Jake, Wesley was slamming the phone down in anger. The woman who’d had the nerve to trespass on his property and rummage through his garbage was not a homeless person. In fact she was a long way from being penniless and probably didn’t know the meaning of being destitute. But worst of all was the knowledge that Jasmine Carmody was a reporter and he outright despised reporters. She had played on his kindness and had made a complete fool out of him.
He stood and crossed the room to the window and gazed out, trying to calm his anger. No matter how many times he saw it, he thought Savannah’s riverfront was breathtaking. What had once been a row of cotton warehouses was now a plaza that consisted of shops, restaurants and offices. He had been smart enough to know the value of investing in waterfront property for both his business and personal use.
His thoughts shifted back to Jasmine Carmody. The woman had actually been going through his garbage looking for something she could use in her campaign to discredit Abraham Danforth. In his opinion that made her nothing more than a self-serving piranha of a reporter.
She didn’t care who she hurt as long as she got her story, and from what he’d seen the other night, it appeared she would go to any lengths to get it. Just what had she hoped to find? Even if he had something he wanted kept confidential, did she think he would have been stupid enough to toss it in the garbage?
He couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting back to his college days and thinking of Caroline Perry. Caroline was a journalism student he had dated while a member of the Georgia Tech football team. He had really cared for her and would even go so far as to say he had actually loved her. But he had found out too late that love had been the farthest thing from Caroline’s mind and all she had wanted from him was a story. She’d been interested only in breaking a story on steroid use by the football team. He had been devastated when he learned she’d only been using him. She had taken the information that he had shared with her in strict confidence and had written an article for the school newspaper. In the end, he had gotten kicked off the football team and was shunned by his teammates. Since then, he’d never trusted another reporter, and as far as women were concerned, he would love them and leave them. He would never give his heart to another woman again.
He walked back to his desk. Jasmine Carmody had made a grave mistake. She would find out the hard way that no one, and he meant no one, made a fool of Wesley Brooks.
Talk about close calls again, Jasmine thought as she let herself into her apartment. She and Ronnie had gone over to Wesley Brooks’s home during their lunch hour, only to find he had locked the gate.
Determined to get onto his property anyway, she had attempted to climb the massive wrought-iron gate only to hear Ronnie’s warning moments later that someone was coming. She had barely made it back down safely to the ground, and she and Ronnie had hightailed it to the nearest bushes, when Wesley Brooks had pulled up in his vintage red Corvette. How were they to know that he would be coming home for lunch? And then when he had leaned out of the vehicle to punch in the numbers to open his security gate, he had glanced around as if he had known she was out there somewhere hiding, which was ridiculous. There was no way he could have known since like the last time, she had parked her car out of sight.
Jasmine tossed her purse on the sofa and went into the kitchen feeling totally frustrated. She and Ronnie had come pretty close to being discovered. Millionaire or no millionaire, why couldn’t the man have a schedule that they could figure out? He had a tendency to appear when you least expected him.
She was about to take some leftover lasagna out of the freezer when she heard the phone ring. She decided to let the answering machine pick it up just in case it was Evelyn or one of her stepsisters. There was no way she could deal with any of them right now.
She had just closed her freezer door when the deep, husky timbre of a male’s voice floated across the living room and reached her alert ears all the way in the kitchen.
“Good evening, Ms. Carmody, this is Wesley Brooks. I believe I have something of yours and if you’re interested in getting it back, I suggest that you meet me tonight at seven o’clock at the original D&D Coffeehouse. The decision to show up is strictly up to you.” The phone clicked loudly when he abruptly ended the call.
Jasmine stood shell-shocked, rooted in place. She could hear the sound of blood rushing fast and furious to her brain. Wesley Brooks knew who she was and had found her locket. And from the sound of it, although his voice had remained rather calm, she had picked up on more than a tinge of anger in his tone. The man was definitely not a happy camper.
A shiver lapped at her nerve endings as she glanced down at her watch. He wanted them to meet tonight at seven and it was almost six now. The first thought that came to her mind was not to go, but then she knew if she didn’t show up she might as well kiss her locket goodbye and she couldn’t do that. Right now he was holding the ace and evidently he knew how to play it.
She sighed deeply, wondering what sort of explanation she could give him that would sound plausible as to why she had been on his property that night, then quickly decided there wasn’t one. The bottom line was that she had trespassed and had been going through his garbage. Hell, he had caught her red-handed and she’d been careless enough to leave evidence behind.
She wondered how on earth he had traced the locket back to her and decided it really didn’t matter. Besides, she didn’t have time to ponder the question of how she had gotten caught, not if she wanted to meet him at the time he had mandated in his phone call.
As she put the lasagna back in the freezer, she headed toward her bedroom. She would take a shower, get dressed and leave to meet the one man she had hoped to never see again.
Wesley checked his watch. Jasmine Carmody had less than five minutes to show her face. He hoped she would be on time because the last thing he felt toward her was tolerance. She had already pushed the wrong buttons with him and he wouldn’t suggest that she tried pushing any more.
Although he hadn’t seen her again since that night, he had a feeling that she had shown up on his property sometime today, right before he had come home for lunch. When he had rolled down the window to punch in the numbers to open his security gate, he had noticed the footprints in his flower bed.
Evidently she’d come looking for the locket and had been highly disappointed to discover his gate locked. He was glad he had thought to secure it that morning before he’d left. Otherwise Ms. Carmody would have taken the liberty to snoop again. Well, she was going to find out tonight that she had sniffed around one time too many. He was intent on teaching her a lesson that she would never forget.
He glanced toward the entrance of the coffeehouse the moment she walked in. Even minus the scarf that she’d worn on her head that night, he would have recognized that face anywhere. If he’d thought she was attractive in the moonlight, here in the glow of lanterns that hung on the walls and illuminated her features, she was strikingly beautiful.
His gaze did a slow study that started at the mass of braids that covered her head and ended at the polished toes of her feet. She was impeccably dressed in a blue blouse and a pair of black tailored slacks that gave her a cool sophisticated look. It was a look that was wreaking havoc on his male hormones. Even the anger he felt toward her couldn’t diminish that fact, which was something that didn’t sit too well with him at the moment. Nor did he appreciate the way his skin had tightened or the sudden feeling of raw, hungry desire that swept through his entire body.
Damn!
The last thing he needed was to be lusting after a woman whom he considered the enemy. But still, enemy or not, he couldn’t stop the way his body responded when he watched her push her long braids back over her shoulders. And when she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue while glancing around, he thought he would literally go up in smoke. He definitely felt more than a slow burn coming on. It felt like someone had lit him with a blazing torch.
Heaven help him. A groan slipped past his throat the exact moment his senses took over, making him acutely aware of her. He tried to remember the last time he’d been with a woman, and then quickly decided it had been way too long. Several business deals had forced him to put his sex life on hold for a while, but seeing Jasmine Carmody made him remember just what he’d been missing.
He noted the exact moment her gaze found his and watched her breathing change, becoming as irregular as his own. Something, he wasn’t sure exactly what, hung in the air between them. Electrifying heat washed over him and he would swear she felt it, too, although a distance of about ten feet separated them. There were just some things that a man who’d been around as much as he had, knew. And the one thing that was clearly obvious was that he’d made a big mistake in asking her to meet him at the coffeehouse.
He should have confronted her where she worked. Once there, inside the walls of the newspaper office—a place he detested—he would not have cared if she were naked.
That was a lie and he knew it. He would have cared if she was naked—a lot.
She wavered before moving toward him and he hesitated before standing to make sure his knees wouldn’t go weak on him. As usual, the coffeehouse was crowded and the last thing he wanted was to make a spectacle of himself. He tried to clear his head, but when the same luscious scent he now associated with Jasmine wafted into his nostrils, the idea was useless.
“Mr. Brooks,” she said curtly, before taking a seat. She didn’t offer him her hand, which was just as well since he probably would not have taken it anyway. They weren’t friends and there was no need to pretend otherwise. Besides, he didn’t want to touch her. Touching could lead to things he’d rather not think about.
“Ms. Carmody,” he acknowledged, reclaiming his own seat. She was mad, he could tell. Evidently, she was used to having the upper hand, but tonight things would be different.
He watched her, saying nothing, as she skimmed her index finger across the tablecloth and met his gaze, showing him she wasn’t easily intimidated. Her eyes were the color of chocolate chips, and staring into them was effortless.
When moments passed and neither of them made conversation, she finally said, “You indicated you had something of mine, Mr. Brooks.”
The corner of Wesley’s mouth curved into an amused smile when he heard the impatient edge in her tone. Did she actually think he would return her locket without first letting her know what he thought of her for invading his privacy? He didn’t appreciate her using the Danforths as her ticket to fame. They were good people. He could attest to that. For the past fourteen years, they had been the only real family he’d ever known, and he didn’t take kindly to anyone trying to dirty their good name.
He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I did indicate that, didn’t I? But first I want to know what you were doing going through my garbage that night.”
Her tongue did a nervous sweep of her bottom lip and he wished she hadn’t done that. He found himself shifting in his chair to relieve the pressure of a sudden ache in his lower body. And her scent wasn’t helping matters. He would be in serious trouble if he didn’t get a grip and push aside the sensual effects Jasmine Carmody was having on him.
“What makes you think I was going through your garbage?”
He lifted a brow at her question. Did she intend to play dumb? Then he would educate her quickly. “Because I saw you, Ms. Carmody. How would you like to be the one to make the front page for once? I can just see the headlines now and wonder what your boss at the Savannah Morning News would say if I told him what you did. There’s a law against harassment and invasion of privacy, not to mention trespassing.” From her expression he could tell that she didn’t want to think what her boss would say, or the charges Wesley could possibly bring against her.
She sat up straight in her chair. “I was just doing my job.”
He gave her a considering glance. “Since when did your job include breaking the law? If that’s the case then maybe you should switch professions.”
Jasmine breathed deeply, knowing he had a right to be upset and she would give him that right…to a point. “Look, I admit I went too far that night. I’ve never gone through anyone’s garbage before. I was desperate.”
Wesley narrowed his eyes at her. If she thought he would accept that as a good excuse then she had another thought coming. Caroline Perry had been desperate, too, and he had learned the hard way that desperate women, especially in her profession, couldn’t be trusted. They didn’t care who they hurt as long as they got their story.
“I’m glad you can easily admit to your desperation, Ms. Carmody, and I for one know that a desperate person will do just about anything. But I can’t let you do that since you’re so hell-bent on ruining the Danforths’ good name. So I’ve decided to give you a taste of your own medicine. I want you to know how it feels to be followed and spied on every single day.”
She contemplated him for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what he was saying. “What are you talking about?” she finally asked.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite touch his eyes. “What I’m talking about is you not respecting the privacy of others. I will become your shadow.”
He watched as she comprehended what he’d said. Her eyes widened then flashed with anger when she said. “You’re going to stalk me?”
Wesley rolled his eyes upward. “Call it whatever you like, however, I think stalking is too strong a word. I see it merely as a way to keep you in line and out of trouble, especially until Abraham Danforth’s senate race is over.” It was easy to see that she was livid. Hellfire mad was a definite. Pretty damn pissed wasn’t far behind.
“I have a job to do, Mr. Brooks,” she stated in a clearly agitated voice like that was all the reason she needed.
Their gazes met, held, clashed for several seconds before he said, “Then do it, Ms. Carmody, but not at the expense of hurting innocent people. I know your kind. You’re a reporter who will do anything for a story. I suggest you ask your boss to transfer you to the lifestyle section of the paper or the fashion column, something that suits you better.”
“Now you look here—” she began, looking both hostile and beautiful at the same time.
“No, you look here,” he said, his tone brittle. “I will follow you around whether you like it or not. And if you complain to the police with some foolishness about me stalking you, then I will gladly file charges and have my attorney hit your newspaper with a gigantic lawsuit. And as far as your locket, I will keep it until I feel you deserve to have it back.”
“That’s blackmail!”
Wesley smiled. “I want to think of it as an investment of my time in your rehabilitation. It will be my guarantee that you’ll leave the Danforths alone.”
She glared at him. “That won’t happen.”
“Then I’ll continue to be your shadow and I’ll keep your locket.”
