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“Yes, you have my word.”
“Good,” he said, and seemed to relax.
“Why did you fire my father?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.
That sinister smile she was beginning to associate with him curved his blue lips. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you, Abigail?”
“No, of course not.”
“You find Delores, then we’ll talk.”
Frustration ran through Abby. She was close—so close—but she should have known better. Simon Brewster wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“What if I don’t find her?”
“You will.”
“You seem certain of that.”
“I know you, Abigail. You won’t give up until you find her.”
You don’t know me, old man, she had the urge to say, but she didn’t. She had to keep her emotions clear. “How can I be sure you’ll tell me the truth when I find her?”
“You have my word.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
Mr. Brewster started to laugh, but it turned into a cough. The nurse immediately adjusted the oxygen. In a moment he was better.
“You got fire, girl. Your father never had that.”
“Don’t criticize my father,” she snapped.
He ignored her words and asked, “Do we have a deal?”
“No, not until I have some proof that you won’t renege on your promise.”
Mr. Brewster watched her closely. “I’ll leave a sealed letter concerning the information you’re after with my attorney. When you return with my daughter, you can read the contents. Will that satisfy you?”
“Maybe,” she answered. “But I insist on seeing the letter and talking to your attorney.”
“No problem. Do we have a deal?”
He wouldn’t tell her a thing until he got what he wanted. It crossed her mind that he’d been planning this all along—but why her? Why had he chosen her to do this? It really didn’t matter. She was going to do it…for her father.
“Yes, we have a deal.”
“Good,” he said, and started to cough again.
Jonas took her elbow and pushed her out the door. He’d obviously decided that was enough for her, for him, for everybody.
“You…promised.” Brewster’s voice followed them.
“Are you serious?” Jonas asked roughly, once they were in the hall. “A daughter? My God, no one but you would believe that cock-and-bull story.”
“I have to find out about my father,” she said stubbornly.
“Your father was a good man. Why can’t you just leave it at that?”
Her eyes caught his in the dimness of the hallway. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors concerning my father.”
“What?” He shrugged. “That he embezzled money from Brewster?”
The words spoken so cavalierly filled her with anger. “My father never took from anybody. He always gave.”
“You brought it up, I didn’t,” he was quick to tell her. “Besides no one believes that trash, anyway.”
“But they’ve heard it, and it’s in their minds. I can’t stand the thought of my father having that kind of epitaph.” With that she headed for the elevator.
Jonas soon caught up with her. “Ms. Duncan, just let it be.”
“I can’t,” she said, and poked the Down button.
“Ms. Duncan, Simon Brewster lives by his own rules. It would be wise for you to go back to Dallas…far away from Brewster.”
“I can’t,” she said again, softly.
That ache in her voice threw Jonas. He was trying to remain detached from the situation, but the hurt in her eyes and the pain in her voice were making mincemeat out of that resolve.
They stepped onto the elevator in silence. Inside, Jonas tried again, “Ms. Duncan—”
“Please stop calling me Ms. Duncan,” she snapped. “My name is Abigail. Everyone calls me Abby. I would prefer it if you did the same.”
Jonas had a hard time hearing anything she was saying. All he could see were her full lips moving, her eyes sparkling and her breasts pressing firmly against her blouse. Mick was right. Jonas wanted her…right here, right now, in this elevator.
He was in big trouble.
The doors swished opened, and still Jonas didn’t move or speak. She watched him with a perplexed expression, probably wondering what was wrong with him.
Jonas reached out to catch the doors as they started to close. The action brought him to his senses. He was acting like a schoolboy, and he was anything but that. He’d had his share of women. He accepted them as they came into his life, enjoying the time he spent with them and then moving on to someone else. From the start of every relationship, he made it clear that there was no future with him. He had screwed up his life when he was fifteen years old, and he wouldn’t destroy anyone else’s.
He sensed in his gut that Abigail Duncan wasn’t a one-night stand or a casual affair. He avoided women like her—women who wanted commitment, family and babies. He had to admit he was attracted to her, but he could handle that without—
He suddenly realized she was waiting for an answer. Clearing his throat, he said, “We won’t be acquainted long enough for me to call you by your given name.”
Her eyes narrowed to green slits. “I don’t care. You’re not calling me Ms. Duncan in that tone of voice. You make it sound like I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”
Jonas walked out of the elevator, and Abby followed him. God, she was relentless. She was a woman who never gave up or gave in. He was beginning to see that.
As they walked out into the coolness of the September night, he turned swiftly—and she almost collided with him.
“All right, Abby,” he said harshly. “Are you satisfied?”
No, not quite, Abby thought. “Ms. Duncan” was better than that angry tone. What was wrong with her? Why should she care what he called her? She had more important things to worry about.
As if reading her mind, he added, “You’d better concentrate on Brewster, instead of worrying about what I call you.”
She tucked hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I think I’m getting a little crazy.”
“I’ll second that,” he quipped.
“Do you always have to be so insulting,” she snapped, tired of his rude remarks and insinuations.
There was a pause. Then he said, “Listen, Abby…”
Oh God, her name sounded just the way she had known it would—low, sensual and spine-tingling good. All she wanted to do was taste that sound on his lips. She pulled herself together, trying desperately to steady her roller-coaster emotions. One minute she was low and the next high. What was happening to her? Why did Jonas Parker have this effect on her? She shook the question away.
“I’ve worked for Brewster for twenty years, and this is the first I’ve heard of a daughter. My guess is, there isn’t one.”
“Why would he lie? Why would he concoct this elaborate hoax?”
“Like I tried to tell you earlier, Brewster does things for his own weird reasons, and nine times out of ten someone gets hurt. Go back to Dallas, make up with your husband and forget Brewster’s deal.”
“Stop saying that,” she said heatedly. “I’m not going back to Dallas, and I’m certainly not going back to my ex-husband.”
Jonas took a long, patient breath.
“I have to find out the truth,” she added more calmly. “Can’t you understand that?”
“What if you find out that your father did embezzle money from Brewster?”
“What!” she cried, feeling as if he’d slapped her.
“You heard me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You knew my father. He wouldn’t do that. How can you even say it?”
He took a step closer. “Because when you start digging into the past, you’d better be able to handle the consequences.”
She frowned, hearing a hint of a warning in his voice. A warning that indicated he might know more than he was saying. “If you know something, tell me.”
“I don’t.” He sighed. “Brewster didn’t like your father, and your father wasn’t all that crazy about Brewster. It was something personal between them, so just let it be.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, and felt chills run up her spine in apprehension of what lay ahead.
“Don’t go into Mexico to find this fictional daughter.”
The breeze picked up and blew her hair across her face. She quickly tucked it behind her ear again, wishing she had the option of refusing and wishing even more that he’d at least try to see this from her point of view. A siren wailed close by and a couple hurried past them, but neither Abby nor Jonas were in the mood to watch the activity around the hospital. They were too engrossed in each other.
“I have to,” she finally said.
A low grumble left his throat.
“What does that mean? You don’t think I can do it?”
“Ms. Duncan, I’ve no doubt you can do anything you set your mind to.” The words came out in that insulting way again, and it angered her.
“I will, Mr. Parker, and I don’t want your help,” she told him. “I’ve been to Mexico many times. I don’t need some rude, arrogant, insulting man to watch over me.”
As the words left her mouth she wanted to take them back, but she couldn’t. She was so infuriated at his attitude.
She couldn’t see his face clearly in the moonlight, but she could feel his anger. She instinctively braced herself. She wasn’t afraid of him because somehow she knew he wouldn’t hit her. She wasn’t certain how she knew that, but she did. Maybe it was her experience with Kyle. She was afraid of Kyle because he couldn’t control his temper. Jonas had extreme control over everything in his life. She’d only met him a month ago, but intuitively she sensed certain traits about him—like that when he touched a woman it would be with affection and the utmost care. Right now he was angry with her and she’d received the full brunt of that anger with several lashes from his tongue. But that was fine. She could give it right back to him.
“I might be all those things, Ms. Duncan,” he said in that infuriating tone. “But I have enough sense to know a scam when I hear it. If you want to play games with Brewster, that’s your business. I’ve made my feelings clear on the whole situation and that’s all I have to say.” He turned into the September breeze and muttered, “’Night, ma’am,” as he walked away.
Abby wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Even though Jonas was angry with her, he still remembered his manners. She’d never met anyone like him before and she didn’t think she ever would again. She inhaled the cool night air. She was very curious about Jonas Parker. Why did he put up with Brewster’s ridicule and abuse? Why did he work for a man he seemed to hate? Mr. Brewster had said something about owning Jonas. What did that mean? Her reporter’s instinct was on full alert.
“Oh, Jonas, you haven’t seen the last of me,” she whispered under her breath as she made her way to her car.
WHEN ABBY GOT BACK to the house, she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned and kept staring at the clock. At six, she grabbed the phone and called Dallas. She had to talk to her friend Holly.
“Hello,” a sleepy voice answered.
“Holly, it’s Abby.”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, but you’re always up early.”
“I was out late last night.”
“Date or assignment?”
“Assignment.”
“I should have guessed.” Abby laughed.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re both dedicated to our work.”
“Yeah,” Holly said. “But there’s this new guy in accounting, and I’ve got my eye on him.” She yawned. “Why are you calling so early?”
“I wanted to run something by you.”
“Okay, but I’m not thinking too clearly just yet.”
Abby and Holly had been friends since their freshman year in college, and later they had worked at the same newspaper, Abby as a reporter and Holly as a photographer. They lived in the same apartment complex and saw each other daily. Even after Abby had married, they remained close. Abby had told her about writing Mr. Brewster’s memoirs and Holly had understood because she knew how much Abby had loved her father. Now Abby explained to her friend Mr. Brewster’s odd request.
