The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene: Scandal Between the Sheets / The Boss Man's Fortune / Challenged by the Sheikh

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.”

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?”

In the course of renovation on Crofthaven, Abraham Danforth’s mansion, the body of a young woman had been found in the attic. The ensuing police investigation had threatened to engulf Abraham Danforth’s senate campaign in a scandal before it could get off the ground. Everyone was wondering who the woman was. When dental records proved the body was not that of Victoria Danforth, Jake’s sister who had vanished without a trace after attending a concert nearly five years ago. Speculation remained as to who was involved in her disappearance. Like everyone else, he had fond memories of Tori and thanked God it wasn’t her body that had been found.

“No, I haven’t heard anything yet,” Reid said, and at that moment the waitress came to take Reid’s coffee order.

Wesley took a sip of his coffee, then asked, “How’s Tina?” Reid was engaged to marry a beautiful young woman by the name of Tina Morgan and Wes was happy for his good friend.

Reid smiled. “Tina is fine and I’m glad she came into my life. I can’t wait until the day we get married.”

Wesley nodded thinking that Reid and Jake had hit gold in finding women like Tina and Larissa, but as far as he was concerned, as long as there were women out there like Jasmine Carmody, he was determined to stay single.

Jasmine was in the bed when her phone rang less than an hour later. Glancing at her caller-ID box, she picked it up. “So, you finally decided to call to make sure I was still alive,” she said to Ronnie. During her drive to the coffeehouse, she had used her cell phone to call Ronnie to tell her about Wesley Brooks’s phone call and her plans to meet him.

“Well, what did he say?” Ronnie asked eagerly.

It took Jasmine less than ten minutes to tell Ronnie everything that had transpired.

“And he actually plans to follow you around?” Ronnie asked, clearly astonished.

“That’s what he says and I have no reason not to believe him since he followed me home tonight. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s parked outside when I leave for work in the morning since he’s hell-bent on teaching me a lesson.”

Ronnie chuckled. “Considering how he feels about reporters, it doesn’t surprise me.”

Jasmine lifted a brow. “And just how does he feel about reporters? I got the distinct impression that we aren’t exactly his favorite people. Is there a story I should know about?” she asked, curiously. She knew that Ronnie’s brother, Richard, had attended the same college as Wesley and Jacob Danforth at about the same time.

“Your family have only been living in Savannah for around eight years, Jazz. I think it’s pretty common knowledge to those of us who’ve lived here most of our lives that Wesley dated some girl when he went off to Georgia Tech who was a journalism student. I even heard he had fallen hard for her, but that she had only been using him to write some article for the school paper. It was an article that got him kicked off the football team.”

“Wow,” Jasmine said, thinking that getting kicked off a college football team was pretty serious stuff. “But, still, that’s no reason to take things out on me since I’m a reporter.”

“Yeah, but you did go on his property and rummage through his trash cans.”

Jasmine lifted a dark brow. “Hey, whose side are you on?”

Ronnie laughed. “Yours, of course, since I’m also a reporter and I’ve done some pretty crazy things, too. But personally, I think you’re getting obsessed with this Danforth thing, to the point where you’ll do just about anything to break a story.”

Jasmine frowned. “Ronnie, that’s not fair. You sound like you think I don’t have any ethics.”

“And I’m sorry if I sound that way, but think about it, Jazz. Ever since you were assigned to cover Abraham Danforth’s campaign, you’ve been determined to dig up anything and everything on him that you can.”

Jasmine shrugged. “I just want to report the truth.”

“Yes, but why are you so convinced there is something he’s hiding?”

Jasmine frowned deepened. “And why are you convinced there isn’t?”

Ronnie chuckled. “Like I said earlier, I grew up in this town. The Danforths have been around forever. That doesn’t make them saints but I personally think of them as good people. And as far as Abraham Danforth is concerned, he’s pretty well liked which is why he has a lot of supporters. So be careful, a lot of people won’t like you trying to sully his name.”

All she had to do was think of Wesley Brooks to know that was true. Before Jasmine finally drifted off to sleep an hour or so later, she couldn’t help but think about the conversation she’d had with Ronnie. Had she become so obsessed with breaking a story that she had started being unfair and biased?

She swallowed hard when she thought about just how pushy she’d been with Larissa Neilson in trying to get the woman to admit that Jacob Danforth had fathered her child.

She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position in bed, determined to put Wesley Brooks, as well as the Danforths, out of her mind. A few minutes later she discovered it was easy putting the Danforths out of her thoughts, but getting rid of Wesley Brooks was a little more challenging.

Even when Jasmine finally drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t keep Wesley from creeping into her dreams.

Three

The next morning, while sitting at her kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, Jasmine pulled out a folder to review all the information she had gathered on Abraham Danforth so far.

One thing she’d discovered about the man was that he was an overachiever. He’d been the first son born to the prominent Savannah Danforths, and as such he’d been expected to be the best at everything. Entering the military he rose to the rank of Navy SEAL commander. He married Chloe Forsythe, who represented the crème de la crème of Savannah society and she bore him five children. Jasmine’s report also indicated that while serving in Vietnam on a dangerous mission, Abraham had gotten injured.

When Abraham’s wife died, he was at the height of his military career and knew he couldn’t provide the kind of nurturing presence his children needed. He’d arranged for his children to attend the finest boarding schools and had asked his younger brother Harold to step in on the holidays when he was gone.

Jasmine pulled out a color photograph of Abraham Danforth and had to admit he was very good-looking for his age. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. At fifty-six, he had an athletic physique which was probably due to all the hours he spent at a health club. Single and wealthy, he would be a prize catch for any woman. She couldn’t help wondering why he had never remarried or why his name wasn’t romantically linked to anyone. Maybe that was something she needed to look at more closely.

Jasmine sighed deeply as she pushed her notes on Abraham Danforth aside. The man who’d once had a distinguished military career now wanted to be a senator. There had to be something in his background that was worth checking out and uncovering. No one could have such an unsullied past.

And what about the rumor that threatening e-mails had been sent to him? As well as the question as to who was responsible for crashing his computer with a virus and why? Both incidents sounded like the man had an enemy that she needed to know about.

She glanced at her watch. It was time she got dressed and went in to work. She intended to drop by the library some time today and research information about the women in Abraham Danforth’s life. More specifically, the names of the women he had dated within the past twenty-four months. There was a possibility that one of them had something interesting to tell.

An hour or so later after arriving at work, she was sent to city hall to cover the mayor’s press conference where he announced the city’s proposed budget cuts. After the press conference ended, like the other reporters that were present, she began jotting down last-minute quotes on her laptop.

Jasmine shivered when she felt someone’s hot breath stir against her neck. She turned around quickly, only to collide with Wesley Brooks.

She took a step away from him and released an exasperated sigh, determined to be cool and not let him know he was ruining her normally good attitude. Because she’d dreamed of him all through the night, she had awoken edgy and irritated.

“Interested in politics, Mr. Brooks?” she asked curtly. The one thing she immediately noted was the fact that he seemed taller to her today. Taller, more overwhelming and just as sexy.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “No, but I am interested in you. I hope you’ve been staying out of trouble.”

She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, and encountered the same ruthless glint in his gaze that had been there the night before. “My job is to report the news. That’s what I’m doing and what I’ve always done.”

“Oh? And that includes going through someone’s trash?”

Jasmine lifted her gaze up to the ceiling. “You have social status in this community, Mr. Brooks. Surely someone has invaded your privacy before. Do you want me to believe you’ve never been hounded by the paparazzi? What about that time last year when it was rumored that you were seeing that well-known professional model?”

He shrugged. “That was different.”

She lifted a dark brow. “In what way?”

“It was different because I decided to tolerate it then, and because it was about me. You going through my garbage wasn’t about me. It was about your efforts to start a smear campaign against someone I care deeply about and respect. But I guess you probably don’t know much about care and respect.”

She was taken aback by his assumption. “For your information I care for and respect my father deeply.”

“Your father?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, my father. Didn’t you think I had one?”

He glared. “When it comes to you, I really didn’t know what to think. When I first saw you, I thought you were a homeless person.”

She nodded, remembering how he had offered her money and food. She felt bad about that. She snapped her laptop shut and began walking. He automatically began walking beside her. “Well,” she said, trying to ignore him, “as you can see I am not homeless.”

He raked his gaze over her. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

She stopped walking and glanced up at him and said, “Look, I’m really sorry about that.”

He looked into her eyes. “Are you?”

She felt the need to clarify. “Not for going through your garbage but for you thinking I needed a handout. It was kind of you to offer me money and food.”

“I’m usually a kind person,” he said in a low voice right beside her.

Until he feels someone is trying to use him or is hurting someone he cares about, she thought as she began walking again. He walked silently beside her until they reached her car. She noticed he had parked next to her. He turned and looked at her. “So where to now, Ms. Carmody?”

She shook her head. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”

“No further than you took things when you went through my trash,” he said leaning against his car.

She was about to say something but at that particular moment her mobile phone rang. “Yes?”

Her eyes widened. “When?”

She then sighed deeply. “All right. Thanks for letting me know.” She slipped her mobile phone back into her purse and looked at him. “I just heard something that might interest you, Mr. Brooks.”

He lifted a brow. “What?”

“That was my boss. A definite identification has been made on the body that was found in the attic at Crofthaven.”

Wesley straightened. “Who was it?” he inquired quietly.

Jasmine cleared her throat. She knew how much this information meant to him. “The body was identified as Martha Jones.”

Wesley inhaled deeply. Martha Jones had been the troubled and sickly daughter of Joyce Jones, the Danforths’ long-time housekeeper. His heart went out to Joyce.

He met Jasmine’s gaze. “And I bet you’re determined to find Joyce Jones to get the scoop.”

She frowned. “Yes, I’d definitely like to talk to her.”

Wesley narrowed his gaze at her. “Don’t you ever let up? The last thing Joyce needs right now is a nosey newspaper reporter asking her questions. She probably needs this time alone.”

Jasmine scowled. “I’m not an insensitive person.”

He glared. “Really? You had me fooled. Only an insensitive person would have hassled Larissa about the identify of her baby’s father.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “It’s my job to report any news-breaking stories. And I considered that news breaking. Anything that goes on in the Danforths’ household is newsworthy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

Wesley sighed. The woman was wearing on his last nerve and he forced himself to stay calm in the wake of his rising anger. He moved aside when she got into her car. He had meant what he said, he intended to be her shadow and somehow he would get through it. She would be a challenge but he’d overcome challenges before. Jasmine Carmody was nothing compared to others he’d faced. As a kid, being carted from one foster home to another had been a challenge, as well as a pain…literally.

He had to keep his head on straight and remember that she was just a woman and he’d known plenty. But then there was something that made her stand out, something distinctively different. As he got into his car to follow her to her next destination—which he knew would be Crofthaven—the only thing he could think about was that a woman like Jasmine could mess with a man’s mind.

His mind he could control. He hoped and prayed he could control the rest of his body.

Although she wanted to appear cool on the outside, Jasmine was in turmoil on the inside. The more she thought about Wesley Brooks, the angrier she became. And she didn’t understand how she could be attracted to a man like him. It was disgusting.

By the time she arrived at Crofthaven, several television news crews were there to set up for a press conference. The huge estate on the outskirts of Savannah housed a large Georgian-style mansion. The house was considered a historical landmark as it was built over one hundred years ago. The grounds surrounding Crofthaven were lush and lovely, and no doubt tended by a whole army of gardeners, Jasmine thought. Magnificent moss-covered oak trees lined the drive to the main house. The land stretched all the way to the Atlantic and Jasmine picked up the potent scent of the ocean.

She quickly parked her car and got out, determined to find out as much information as she could. She glanced around and saw another reporter from the Savannah Morning News and waved. Brad Cabot answered her greeting with a full-fledge boyish grin. Fresh out of college, he had only been working for the paper a year and she had found him to be good company during the times they had gone out on assignments together.

“What’s going on?” she asked the minute he walked up.

“Not much. The family plans to make a statement in a few minutes so you got here just in time.”

Jasmine nodded at the same time she glanced around and saw Wesley’s car pull up. Her eyes narrowed and a frown touched her lips as she watched him get out of his car. Reporters rushed over to him, wanting a statement, a comment, just about any information he could provide. Without responding to the vast number of questions being thrown at him, he steadily moved up the steps of the huge mansion toward the front door.