The attractive blond-haired, green-eyed woman standing in front of him lifted a brow of her own. "I'll start eating better when you do." She glanced at the grocery bag he held in his hand. "So, what's for dinner?"
Wesley shook his head grinning. "Spaghetti."
She smiled. "That figures, and I hope there's one to spare. I have another appointment in about an hour."
A half hour later Imogene was finishing off the last of her microwave spaghetti dinner with a glass of white wine. She smiled over at the man she considered one of her brothers. "Maybe you need to rethink my offer of investing in this food company since you seem to enjoy their product so much."
Wes smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "We've had this conversation before, Imogene, and the answer is still no."
She returned his smile. "I was hoping you would have changed your mind."
"Not hardly, so go harass another client."
Imogene giggled as she leaned back in her own chair. "So what's going on with you, Wes, other than not eating properly? It seems Mom has the both of us on her 'worry about' list. She called this morning and asked that I check up on you to make sure you were eating properly."
Wesley shook his head. "Umm, that's interesting. When I saw her at Crofthaven today, she mentioned something to me about checking up on you, as well."
Imogene frowned. "That figures." After a few moments she said. "But what doesn't figure is the looks you were giving that reporter at the press conference. Is there something I should know, Wes?"
Wesley raised a dark brow. Imogene had been on the phone the majority of the time trying to cut deals. He was surprised that she had noticed him looking at Jasmine Carmody.
"Isn't she that same reporter who's been snooping around trying to dig up stuff on the family?" Imogene went on to ask when he didn't answer her earlier question.
After taking a sip of his own wine, Wesley answered. "Yes, she's the same one. And my interest in her is purely business. I'm keeping an eye on her."
Imogene smiled over the rim of her wineglass. "Well, that much was obvious. How is keeping an eye on her business?"
"Because I'm making it my business to see that she stops harassing the family."
Imogene nodded. "That should be interesting and I'd love to hear the full details later." She glanced at her watch and stood. "Time's up. I've got to run. Thanks for dinner."
Wesley stood and he opened his mouth to tell her she needed to slow down and take care of herself more, but he knew he would be wasting his time. "You know you're welcome anytime."
He walked her to the door and watched as she got into her car and sped off. After checking his watch, he decided to tackle the work he had brought home with him.
A few hours later, Wesley shut down his computer when he reached a mental block, a first for him. Standing, he stretched and moved away from his desk and walked over to the window.
He loved his new home, especially the view he had of the Savannah River from his office, his bedroom and several other rooms in the house. As a kid, the river had always given him peace and whenever he ran away from one of his foster homes, the area surrounding the river would be the first place he would go to hide.
But this evening the river didn't deliver the peace and tranquility it normally did and all because of Jasmine Carmody. Earlier today he hadn't been able to concentrate on what Abraham had been saying at the press conference because he'd been distracted by her. If Imogene had noticed, he wondered if the rest of the family had, too.
It seemed that his gaze had automatically located Jasmine in the crowd and had latched on to the mass of braids on her head, her sexy body and her cool and confident posture. The funny thing was that women constantly threw themselves at him, yet his thoughts had never been filled with any of them like they were with Jasmine. But here was a woman who loathed him and didn't want to give him the time of day and his mind was filled with nothing but her.
He turned when he heard the phone ring and walked back to his desk to answer it. "Yes?"
"Wes, it's Ian."
Wesley smiled. "Ian, what's going on? If you're calling to gloat about winning the poker game last night, forget it because—"
"She's here," Jan interrupted by saying. "At the coffeehouse."
Wesley raised a brow as he sat down. "Who's at the coffeehouse?"
"The woman you told us about last night. The one you caught going through your garbage. That reporter, Jasmine Carmody."
A frown covered Wesley's face and he sat up straight in his chair. When he had seen her earlier at the grocery store, she had led him to believe that she was heading home and would be in for the rest of the night. In fact one of the main reasons he hadn't been able to concentrate while working on his computer was because of the visions he'd had of Jasmine sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed, wearing very little, while eating her carton of ice cream, and thumbing through the magazine she had purchased earlier. In his mind he saw her legs and appreciated just how long and shapely they were.
"How do you know it's her when you've never seen her before?" he asked Ian.
"Because Jake was here when she came in and he pointed her out to me. He said she's the one who'd been sniffing around trying to dig up something on the family. Then I remembered what you told us, so I've been keeping my eye on her and she's here tonight sniffing. One of the waitresses said she's been asking questions about Dad."
Damn. Wesley squeezed his eyes shut and silently counted to ten. He reopened them as he stood and said. "I'm on my way."
* * *
Four
« ^ »
Jasmine sat forward and rested her forearms on the table as she glanced around the coffeehouse. She was getting bored.
She'd already been here for an hour and so far she hadn't found out anything about Abraham Danforth that she hadn't already known. The waitress who had waited on her hadn't been too chatty and when she had spoken, it was to sing Abraham Danforth's praises. It seemed that everyone wanted to share the good stuff about him but no one was willing to divulge the bad.
She glanced across the room and knew the man looking at her so intently was Ian Danforth, Abraham's oldest son and CEO of Danforth and Company. She heard he frequented the coffee shop since he, along with his brother Adam and cousin Jacob were the owners. She'd also heard that he was a playboy which wouldn't surprise her, given what she'd been able to dig up on the very handsome man with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes.
A Duke University graduate, he had married at twenty-two because his girlfriend had gotten pregnant. A few months into the marriage, the woman had lost the baby. Somehow it had been revealed that she'd never wanted Ian or the baby, just Ian's money. Subsequently the marriage ended in a divorce. Over the years, his sister and cousins had tried playing matchmaker but from what Jasmine gathered, Ian Danforth only dated women that he was in no danger of falling in love with.
Jasmine had even gone so far as to do research to locate his ex-wife, Lara, to see if there was any scoop the woman had wanted to share but hadn't been able to find her. After leaving Savannah, Lara Danforth appeared to have fallen off the face of the earth.
Jasmine decided to shift her thoughts to something else—something pleasant. She thought about the interview she had done last week. The article had appeared in today's paper and her editor had been very generous with his praise. The interview had been with a female teacher who had recently returned from Iraq and had shared her year-long experience. It was too bad that stories like those couldn't advance a reporter's career to the next level. The majority of the reading public wanted to know about a famous person's sordid past and juicy present, especially if that person was a "wanna be" politician like Abraham Danforth. Those were the type of stories that could boost a reporter's career.
Jasmine took a sip of her coffee thinking how good it tasted. There were several D&D coffeehouses around the city and she usually dropped into one from time to time to drink coffee and eat a danish or two.
She glanced around, wondering whom she could possibly make conversation with that might have the information she needed. She'd heard that of all the coffeehouses, this was the one Abraham Danforth frequented the most. It was also rumored that he usually made an appearance with his PR person, Nicola Granville, every Wednesday night to discuss strategy over coffee. Jasmine hoped that if that meeting took place tonight, she would be within listening range. There was no telling the information she could pick up from that discussion.
Suddenly, Jasmine felt a warmth slide up her spine and she shifted her gaze to the entrance of the coffeehouse.
Wesley Brooks.
Their gazes connected and she inhaled slowly. The man was frowning. Her hand tightened around the cup of coffee she held in her hand, bracing herself for the anger she felt radiating from him all the way across the room. She had never known a man who could look so good when he was mad. And, boy, did he look good. Marvelous was a better word. She would even go so far to use the word striking.
Wearing a pair of jeans that looked like they were custom-made for his body, and a pullover shirt, he looked delicious, good enough to eat or to lick all over. She blinked, not believing the direction of her thoughts but lately she'd found that Wesley Brooks had featured prominently in her sexual fantasies; fantasies she'd never had until meeting him.