The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene. Brenda JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t keep it. That locket belongs to me and I can prove it.”
“Prove anything you want, but you’ll have a hard time explaining to a court of law how you lost it on my property.”
Angrily, Jasmine stood. “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over.”
Wesley shrugged. “Fine. You and I don’t ever have to speak again, Ms. Carmody, just as long as you know I will be there watching your every move.”
She frowned. “And I’m supposed to just accept that?”
He smiled at her. “At the moment, you don’t have a choice.”
Apparently she heard the deep finality in his voice and decided against further argument.
Without having anything else to say, she turned and walked out of the coffeehouse.
* * *
The man was a regular pain in the rear end, Jasmine thought, glancing in her rearview mirror. Wesley Brooks must have left the coffeehouse the minute she did in order for him to be following her. He was making sure she knew he intended to do just what he had said, starting tonight.
She couldn’t really label him a stalker since she knew he didn’t mean her any physical harm; emotional harm was another story. He just intended to drive her nuts by constantly being her shadow and watching her every move. She hoped that he wore out sooner than she did and she had no intentions of letting him get next to her. If he didn’t have anything better to do with his time, then that was his problem.
She exhaled a deep breath when she recalled just how good he had looked at the coffeehouse. It had taken all of her resolve to focus on what he’d been saying and not on the movement of his mouth. He had the most sensuous pair of lips that she had ever seen on any man. They were full and appeared soft, although the words pouring from them had been harsh. Then there was his voice. She had heard the subtle warning in the deep, rich timbre, and for a brief moment she’d begun to think she was listening to and looking at a Morris Chestnut clone. But she had to grudgingly admit that not even her favorite Hollywood actor had the ability to fill her with unrequited lust like Wesley.
A sharp awareness had cut through her body the moment she had joined Wesley at the table. Her senses had been teased, stretched, ignited, and every time she had met his gaze, her breasts had tingled against the material of her blouse.
She shook her head and couldn’t help but smile. She was definitely pathetic. Here the man was out to get her and all she could think about was…making love with him—which was unusual since she was still a virgin and damn proud of it. In fact, her stepsisters enjoyed calling her “Proud Mary.”
Jasmine knew her stepsisters had been sexually active for a long time—probably since their high-school days. But she’d had more things to do with her time than to become a notch on some man’s bedpost. Besides, she had decided that her education meant more to her than some jock with a high testosterone level. And while in college, she had been too busy making the grades to get serious about anyone.
She was only twenty-six and figured she had plenty of time to have sex. Until then, she intended to keep her clothes on and concentrate on trying to get as far ahead in her career as she could.
She made a turn at the next traffic light and sure enough, Wesley Brooks’s silver-gray Mercedes sports car turned right along with her. She frowned wondering just how many cars the man owned. Today at lunch he had been driving a late model Corvette. But then, when you had money you could do just about anything.
Moments later she pulled into her apartment complex and wasn’t surprised when he pulled in right behind her. She parked her car and released her seat belt to get out. He parked next to her and was already out of his vehicle. He leaned against it and glared at her.
“You, Ms. Carmody, are a speeder.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And you, Mr. Brooks, are a nuisance.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
She could just imagine some of the names he had been called. Deciding not to say anything else to him, she turned and walked toward her apartment. Unlocking her door, she glanced over her shoulder to take one last look at him. He was still leaning against his car glaring at her.
Without saying anything else to him, she quickly opened the door and went inside.
Wesley watched her close the door behind her and frowned. He experienced a moment of regret that he wasn’t going inside her apartment with her. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. He sighed, deciding that he would return to the coffeehouse and hang out there until it was time to show up at Ian’s place to play cards.
Less than ten minutes later, he was parking his car back at the coffeehouse. The original coffeehouse was located in the historical district of Savannah and was a popular hangout with the young professional crowd and some older coffee lovers, as well. The coffeehouse made every kind of coffee imaginable and even had their own specialty blend, which was a real hit with customers, including him.
One of the most popular features of the coffeehouse was the bulletin board that was set up near the front of the shop. The board had taken on a life of its own and there was always a crowd of people surrounding it. Messages being sent back and forth by customers, particularly single customers, were taped on the board and Wesley had heard that several romances had been sparked because of the board.
He glanced around when he walked in. The coffeehouse was a real cozy affair but there hadn’t been anything cozy about his meeting tonight with Jasmine Carmody. Even when backed against a wall the woman had come out scratching, which a part of him couldn’t help but admire. A frown creased his brow. He didn’t want to admire anything about Jasmine Carmody. He had only to think for a second to remember how he had walked up on her going through his trash, and how he had offered her five hundred dollars of his hard earned cash because he actually thought she was someone who needed it.
He found a table near the back and a waitress quickly came to take his order. After being served, he leaned back in his chair as a scowl touched his face. The woman was destined to drive him nuts.
“You okay, Wes?”
Wesley looked up and found his good friend Reid Danforth standing next to his table with a concerned look on his face. Reid was Abraham’s second oldest son and the director of Danforth and Company’s shipping operation.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied as Reid slipped into the chair across from him. “Any word yet on the body that was found at Crofthaven?”
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