Jacob's Proposal

Silence fell, trapping too much of the past between them. “That person made too many mistakes,” she said at last. Danny ought to know that. One of her impulses was partly responsible for the hell he’d been living in the past few years.

“Maybe, but she was human. I’m learning a whole lot about being human and making mistakes these days. Claire…I’m glad you got out of this house, where Ken Lawrence can’t find you. Just don’t keep running away from him in other ways, too.”

“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

After she hung up, Claire took a deep, calming breath. Danny was wrong. He was one hundred percent wrong, and she was an idiot to let him upset her. She wasn’t running away. She was running to something—the future she’d been building and the person she was becoming: a woman who would never make the kind of mistakes that had wrecked more lives than just her own. No, she didn’t miss her old self at all.

She took another slow breath, opened the door to the hall and stepped out—right into a solid male body.

A startled shriek rose in her throat. She bit it back. Her head felt light and dizzy.

“Whoa!” Two strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her.

Not Jacob. That was her first thought, and she shook her head to rid herself of it. Not Jacob—and not Ken, either, of course. He couldn’t get to her here.

This was a stranger.

“Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

His hands dropped and his eyes widened. “Surely you aren’t Claire McGuire.”

“I hate to disagree, but I am.”

“Feel free to disagree with me anytime.” A smile grew in his eyes until it reached his mouth. “Especially when I say something stupid. Of course you’re Claire McGuire. I’m Michael West.”

“Jacob’s brother?”

“Guilty.”

Michael was a good-looking man, but his features were even, not harsh, and rather Latin. His eyes were as dark as Jacob’s were pale—no resemblance there. His body, now…yes, physically he had something in common with his brother. Power. And control. “So you’re one of the two people Jacob was willing to talk to on my first day. Glad to meet you, Mr. West.”

“Make it Michael, please. Or Mick. That way I won’t have to call you Ms. McGuire. Has Jacob been difficult?”

“It varies. On a scale of teddy bear to grizzly, he usually hits somewhere between rattlesnake and wolverine.”

Amusement deepened in his eyes. “Sounds as if you’re getting to know him quickly. Are you on your way to breakfast?”

“Yes, Ada asked me to join her. And you?” She shouldn’t pump him for information about his brother, but if he happened to volunteer something…

“Unfortunately I’ve already eaten. I’ve got a ten o’clock flight.”

“Oh.” Looked like her curiosity was doomed to disappointment. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” She smiled. “I almost said ‘running into you,’ but that’s precisely what I did do, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mind that part.”

She chuckled. “I’ll bet you were a hell-raiser as a kid.”

“As a matter of fact, I was. I didn’t think I gave that impression these days, though.”

“Oh, you don’t. But it takes one to know one.”

He lifted his eyebrow. With that subtle shift, the resemblance she hadn’t seen before snapped into focus, and he looked very much like his brother. “Are you a hell-raiser?”

“Not anymore, but when I was younger—well, who has any sense at eighteen? You remind me of my ‘making up for it’ period, when I was terribly serious about everything.”

He studied her so gravely that she wondered if she’d offended him. “You know, I think I do have time for a quick cup of coffee before I leave. If you wouldn’t mind some company—?”

“I’d love it.” She started down the hall with him, slanting him a mischievous glance. “I’ll bet Ada knows all sorts of stories about you and Jacob when you were boys.”

“Just don’t mention the apple pie incident. Or anything from when I was a teenager. Or—hmm. Maybe it would be better if I left without a last cup of coffee, after all.”

She laughed. “I think I’m going to like you, Michael. And there is no way I’ll let you duck out of that cup of coffee now.” Claire thrust aside all thought of the rose that had been left on her doorstep. She was safe for the moment. Ken had no way of finding her here.

And if her haven was only temporary, then, like Scarlet, she’d worry about it tomorrow. Because there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it today.

The kitchen was Michael’s favorite room, maybe because it had changed so little over the years. The window box in the corner, with its crop of herbs adding a sweet whiff of oregano and mint to the air, was a recent addition. Sonia’s doing, most likely. Michael sipped his coffee and enjoyed the steam and the mingling of scents. It always smelled good here.

None of his father’s wives had been allowed to tamper with Ada’s domain. That window box was the only tangible evidence that any woman other than Ada had ever lived in this house…that, and the woman who sat next to Ada at the big, scarred table.

Claire McGuire was a surprise. Especially after the talk he’d had with his brother last night.

Michael enjoyed watching her. What man wouldn’t? But her beauty wasn’t as interesting as the way she obviously enjoyed Ada, who was taking shameless advantage of the opportunity to embarrass Michael.

When Ada finished her latest story, Claire’s smile broke into a laugh. “He didn’t. Really? A smoke bomb?” She shook her head. “Michael, you’re worse than I was. At least I never blew anything up.”

“Can I help it if I like things that go boom?”

Ada shot him a darkling look. She didn’t approve of Michael’s frequent, lengthy absences. “The boy always did like making a commotion. That hasn’t changed.”

“Sounds like you had your hands full when they were younger.”

“Hellions, all three of them,” Ada said proudly. “Now, Jacob has always been sneakier about it than the other two, but he got into his share of trouble. There was this girl he was crazy about when he was fourteen. She was sixteen, so he—”

“Not the one about my first driving experience,” Jacob said dryly from the doorway. “Please.”

“It’s your turn,” Michael said. “Claire has already heard about the smoke bomb I set off at St. Vincent’s.”

“I’m the eldest. I should go last.” He poured a cup of coffee, turned and leaned against the counter. “I vote that we tell her about Luke’s gambling career next.”

Claire hadn’t precisely stiffened when Jacob entered the room. It was more subtle than that—a loss of ease, as if she were suddenly conscious of her expression, her body, in a way she hadn’t been before. As if she were intensely conscious of Jacob’s presence.

Interesting, Michael thought.

“Luke is your other brother, right?” she asked Jacob.

He nodded. He looked entirely at ease, but Michael knew better. The hunter had his prey in sight, and didn’t want to spook it. “Technically,” Michael said, “if we go by years rather than maturity level, Luke is my older brother. Not as ancient as the graybeard leering at you now, but—”

“Watch it,” Jacob said lazily. “I can still take you, as long as you don’t try any of those sudden-death tricks the army taught you.”

“Not in my kitchen, you can’t.” Ada pushed her chair back and stood. “Jacob, you sit down instead of perching there like a vulture checking out the remains, and I’ll fix you some pancakes.”

A phone rang. Not the one in the kitchen, but nearby.

“That’s your line, Ada,” Jacob said helpfully, sipping his coffee.

“Don’t you think I know that? But since I’m busy and you’re not, you might offer to get it for me.”

“I’d rather stay here and leer at Ms. McGuire.”

Ada smirked at him. “I guess you would.” She turned and trotted for the hall door, calling over her shoulder, “Claire, you keep these boys from tearing up my kitchen while I’m gone.”

“I hope the two of you aren’t feeling violent this morning,” Claire said as Ada vanished down the hall. “I’d hate to let Ada down.”

“I’m a gentle soul,” Michael assured her. “Unlike my rowdy brother.”

Jacob raised one eyebrow in that cool, mocking way that used to make Michael want to smash him when he was a teenager. Of course, he’d wanted to smash a lot of things back then.

Claire was amused. “Yes, I can see how rowdy Jacob is. A real troublemaker. You’re in the army, Michael?”

“Special Forces. My brothers treat me with much more respect now that I know how to kill a man in thirteen seconds.”

Her eyebrows went up. “At least I can tell when you’re joking. I think.”

“Jacob was born with a poker face. When the doctor slapped his bottom, he didn’t cry—he slapped him back. Then he bought the man’s practice.”

“It was my first buyout,” Jacob said seriously. “The man had excellent labor relations, but he’d dabbled too heavily in futures.”

“That,” Claire said, her lips twitching, “was a joke. A bad one, but definitely a joke.”

Jacob continued to lean against the counter, sipping his coffee and talking casually with his new employee. He didn’t fool Michael for one minute. Jacob had always gone after what he wanted with the single-minded focus of a lion stalking a gazelle—no nerves, no mercy and the great patience that is possible only in the absence of doubt. His big brother wasn’t so much unaware of the chance of failure as he was impervious to it. A lion whose prey escaped didn’t slink off and moan about his failure, or decide he wasn’t really cut out for this hunting business. He went out and found another gazelle.

But had Jacob ever gone on the hunt for a woman—one particular woman? Michael didn’t think so. Maggie had been—well, handy. Not prey.

“If you have any brothers,” Jacob was saying, “you’ll know you can’t believe half of what Michael tells you about me.”

“No brothers or sisters, I’m afraid, though I do have a cousin I’m close to.” Her eyes softened with memory and affection. “We were hell-raisers together, way back when.”

“Were you?” Jacob set his coffee cup down. “I have trouble picturing you raising hell. Raising temperatures, yes.” He smiled slowly, all sorts of suggestions in his eyes. “That, you do very well.”

Her eyebrows lifted in a wonderfully haughty way. “If that’s supposed to be a compliment, please don’t bother.”

“A statement of fact, rather.” He straightened, moving away from the counter. “It’s not eight o’clock yet.”

She glanced at her watch—a pretty, but inexpensive piece, Michael noted. “If you’d like me to get to the office early—”

“No. I was pointing out that we aren’t on the clock yet. If we were, it would be inappropriate for me to tell you how desirable I find you.”

“You’re out of line.”

“Even in these days of political correctness,” Jacob said, “surely a man can indicate his interest in a beautiful woman, as long as he’s willing to accept a refusal. You don’t look like a woman who would have trouble saying no…if that’s what you want to say.”

There was a tiny crease between Claire’s eyebrows. “I’m not. And ‘no’ is definitely the answer.”

She didn’t look as if she believed it would be that simple. Michael knew it wouldn’t. He pushed his chair back, letting it scrape loudly enough to interrupt the staring match the other two were engaged in. “I’d better be going if I don’t want to risk a speeding ticket. Walk with me to my car, Jacob?”

Jacob’s eyes met his. For a moment, Michael thought his big brother would refuse—and he knew why. He grinned.

Jacob sighed. “All right. At least the damned rain has stopped.”

Three

Jacob was in no mood for an interrogation. He would have made some excuse to avoid walking Michael to his car if he’d thought he could get away with it, but he knew his brother. Once the light of curiosity was fixed in Michael’s eyes, there was no turning him aside. That curiosity had nearly gotten him killed more than once, a fact that troubled Jacob a good deal more than it did Michael.

He was more or less resigned to his fate when he opened the kitchen door and stepped out into a damp, sunny morning. After a couple of blessedly dry days, it had showered again last night.

Their grandfather had built his mansion with his gaze fixed firmly on the past, setting the garage behind the house like a carriage house from the last century. A gravel path led the way through the boxwood and yew border that screened the building from view.

“How’s your head this morning?” Jacob asked.

“As unhappy as my stomach.”

“If you’d drink something other than that rotgut you were guzzling, you might not have a hangover.”

“But I have such a delicate constitution.”

Amusement lightened Jacob’s mood. “Mighty gentle flowers they grow in Special Forces.”

Michael grinned, but didn’t reply. Their feet crunched on the gravel. Water dripped silently from trees to bushes to ground, the drops gemmed by sunshine, and the sky was a bold, clear blue—the color of childhood, to Jacob. Of solitude and freedom.

When Michael spoke again, his voice was carefully casual. “You’ll get my prenuptial agreement tucked away safely?”

When Michael had turned up unexpectedly last night, he’d announced that he was getting married and getting drunk—not in that order. The marriage would take place as soon as he got back from his current assignment.

“I’ll take care of it. I wish you’d reconsider, though. I’m not looking forward to having a piranha for a sister-in-law.”

Michael shrugged. “You won’t have to put up with her long. There are a few things you forgot to mention last night, weren’t there?”

“As I recall, we spoke mostly of your unwanted bride.”

“We talked about marriage. The one I’m planning, and the delay with yours, now that Maggie turned you down. You didn’t mention that you’ve already got her replacement picked out and under siege.”

“We don’t have time to be choosy.” It was an accurate statement as far as it went, but he was grimly certain Michael wouldn’t be satisfied with it. His youngest brother could be damnably perceptive at times.

“You’ve always been choosy. Take your new assistant—a very choice specimen. In fact, she may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is a subjective judgment, though, isn’t it?”

“I suppose a male kangaroo or orangutan might not find Claire beautiful. But a man would. Any man. No doubt the man she’s living with thinks she’s incredibly beautiful.”

Jacob stopped. “She’s not living with a man.”

“Did she tell you that?” Michael shook his head. “I didn’t think a cynic like you would accept a woman at her word.”

“I know damned well she isn’t living with anyone. Adam North handled the background check himself. He’s thorough.”

Michael stared at him a moment, then started to laugh. “You had your prospective bride investigated?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Michael said, lightly mocking. “‘All policy is allowed in war and love,’ I suppose. Which are you embarked on, Jacob—love or war?”

“Business. That sounded suspiciously like poetry.”

“Some eighteenth-century playwright, I think. Sorry. St. Vincent’s influence lingers like cheap perfume. Tell me, did you have him run a background check when you hired her, or after you decided to have her?”

“I prefer to have as many facts as possible before entering into any agreement. Marriage is as potentially treacherous as any other partnership, and I don’t know Claire as well as I knew Maggie.”

“True. Which makes me wonder…you seem to have given up on getting Maggie to marry you pretty easily.”

“I haven’t abandoned my goal. I’ve simply changed one element.”

“The identity of the bride, you mean?”

This conversation was beginning to irritate Jacob. “What made you think someone was living with Claire?”

“Shameless eavesdropping. Her door was open when I came down the hall, and I caught the last part of a conversation she was having with someone named Danny. I didn’t catch a last name.” He paused. “From things she said about some repairs, it was obvious he’s living in her house. Or else she’s been living in his.”

Jacob’s mind sorted through the data in the report he’d been reading when Michael arrived last night. “Danny is her cousin. They’re close. He probably needed a place to stay, since he’s out of work more often than he’s employed.” Was Danny important to her? It seemed likely. Jacob considered what that might mean to his plans. The way to succeed in any deal was to learn what the other person wanted badly enough to give up what you wanted in return.

“Sometimes cousins are too close.”

Jacob’s mouth crooked up. “Who’s being cynical now?”

“Cynicism is one legacy from our father we don’t have to wait to claim.”

Memories of Randolph West always conjured mixed feelings. “True. I still hope to avoid part of his legacy, however.”

Michael grimaced. “Yeah. Which is why I wasn’t surprised you picked Maggie. You aren’t as resistant to the married state as Luke and me, and Maggie is pretty much the type you would settle on. She’s not the sort to tie a man into knots. Claire McGuire, though, surprises the hell out of me.”

“You don’t think I’m as susceptible to beauty as the next man?”

“Her looks are more complication than explanation. Why her, Jacob?”

Why, indeed?

She was kind. He hadn’t expected that. It was the sort of kindness that rose naturally from a warm heart, brimming over onto those around her, charming without the intention to charm. Cosmo had been won over within moments of meeting her, not because she was beautiful—that could have caused all sorts of problems—but because she simply, sincerely, liked him. Accepted him, tattoos, prison record and all.

She liked and enjoyed Ada, too. What was more, Ada liked her, and Ada was a harder nut to crack than Cosmo. And she smiled at Jacob’s jokes. That could have been courtesy or tact, but most people didn’t even know when he was joking. She did.

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