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

“Why?” he asked flustered, angered.

Jasmine raised a brow. “Why what?”

“Why is your floor getting wet?”

Jasmine tossed her braids back, away from her face. “Because at the time you called, I was in the shower. Thinking this was a very important phone call, I rushed out without grabbing a towel.”

Something deep within Wesley stirred to life. The mere thought of Jasmine standing in the middle of the floor without a stitch of clothing covering her body made him feel heated, hot, aroused. He reached up to loosen his tie and shifted his position in the car.

A part of him wondered if she enjoyed rattling his senses, stirring up his emotions and kicking his hormones into overdrive. He knew that to deal with Jasmine Carmody he would have to keep a tight rein on his mental faculties and remain detached, no matter how hard it would be.

“Then I guess I’d better let you go.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Then without waiting for him to say goodbye, she ended the call.

The following day Wesley stood a few feet away watching Jasmine. One minute, he had been thinking he had gotten his head back on straight regarding her, then the next he was more confused than ever. This was one of those times.

Jasmine was standing on the steps of the courthouse interviewing the man who had just announced he was throwing his hat into the ring in the mayoral race. A small crowd had gathered and she was one of several reporters present. He was so focused on her he only half heard the questions she was asking.

Instead, he was too busy scanning her features. They were serious, intent and beautiful enough to take your breath away. He wondered if she was aware of just how sexy she looked dressed in a beige silk blouse and a chocolate brown straight skirt that stopped above her knees.

It dawned on him that the interview session was over when the crowd began dispersing. She turned, met his gaze and froze. He watched her brown eyes grow wary, aggravated, agitated.

It seemed they were back to square one.

But maybe not. There had been a kiss; a kiss he couldn’t forget and he doubted that she could, either. Knowing she had intended to interview Abraham this morning, he was about to save her the trouble from driving across town to Crofthaven by letting her know that Abraham had left town that morning on a business trip, but decided not to. Chances are she would not have believed him anyway.

He watched as she slowly made her way down the courthouse steps and decided to meet her halfway. When they met, coming face-to-face, he placed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her, or pulling her into his arms and kissing her again. “Jasmine,” he acknowledged. “Wesley,” she acknowledged back. “Don’t you ever get tired of following me around?”

Wesley heard the irritation in her voice. “I gave you a break yesterday.”

“No thanks for small favors. Don’t you think we should handle this another way? I feel like I’m being spied on.”

He smiled at that. “Now you know how Abraham must feel at times.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “He’s running for public office, I’m not.”

“That’s a good enough reason for your unfair treatment of him? I don’t see you snooping around his opponent, John Van Gelder.”

Jasmine made a low sound of frustration before saying. “I’m not being unfair to Abraham Danforth. I’m assigned to cover him, not Van Gelder.”

Wesley crossed his arms over his chest. “An assignment that was very unlucky for the Danforth family.”

She sighed. “I regret they feel that way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make it to my next interview.”

When she walked off, Wesley couldn’t help noticing how nicely her skirt stretched across her backside, a very delectable-looking backside. And he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how the sexy curve of that backside would feel against him.

When he had gotten home last night, images of her naked, standing in the middle of the bedroom while talking to him on the phone had taken over his mind. Trying to get some work done had been out of the question and he’d ended up taking his own shower and going to bed.

But he hadn’t been able to sleep. All he could do was think about her. Instead of locking horns with her, he wanted them to lock bodies. He’d tossed and turned in bed all night. Who would have thought that one kiss would have driven him to such a state? One kiss and he was dying for another one. The thought of never kissing her again was tying his stomach into knots.

He sighed deeply. Although the sun was out, the air was sharp and chill, unusual for a Savannah day in April. But then he needed the sharp chill to ward off the heat in his body. It was a heat he could not get rid of thanks to Jasmine.

Jasmine snapped her cell phone closed and placed it back in her purse. She had finished her last interview for the day and was headed home. She had awakened that morning with high hopes of interviewing Abraham Danforth but he had left town unexpectedly on a business trip. The reporter in her wondered what had been so urgent about the trip to Atlanta and why he’d gone instead of his son Ian, who was now in charge of the business.

She was about to exit off the interstate but a quick glance in her rearview mirror showed Wesley’s car was following in the lane behind her.

She sighed in frustration. The man was getting on her last nerve. She glanced at her watch. It was still early and if Wesley was determined to shadow her every activity then she wouldn’t make things easy on him. Actually, she hoped to make things nearly impossible. She hadn’t finished doing all her errands yesterday and decided now was a good time to complete that task and hoped that Wesley was up for it. She glanced back in the rearview mirror and smiled. First she would stop by the dry cleaners, then the car wash, and from there she would go to the butcher and the florist to pick out a plant to sit on her desk.

If the man had nothing better to do with his time than follow her around, that was his business.

What in the hell was the woman up to? Wesley wondered a short while later as he continued to follow her. She had told him she would be taking care of most of her errands yesterday, but so far she had made five stops at various places, parking her car, going into stores and either coming out with nothing or little at all. He released a frustrated sigh but was determined to stay on her tail.

He heard his stomach growl, reminding him it was past dinnertime yet here he was, sitting in the parking lot of Wal-Mart waiting for Jasmine to come out. Moments later, she walked out carrying a small bag. But the bag wasn’t what caught his attention. Once again his gaze was drawn to her skirt and how it stretched against her bottom, and the way her hips swiveled when she walked. Damn. Sexual frustration was taking a toll on him and there was no excuse for it when all he had to do was to pick up his phone and call any number of women who’d be glad to relieve him. But he wasn’t interested in any other woman other than the one crossing the parking lot at that very moment.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember that the woman was Jasmine Carmody. Jasmine the piranha of a reporter. Jasmine who was determined to dig up dirt on those he cared about. But then he also was reminded that she was Jasmine, the woman he had kissed senseless a couple of nights ago.

When he opened his eyes she had gotten into her car and was driving off. He hoped she was heading home but when she turned her vehicle in the opposite direction of her home, he knew that was not the case. Didn’t she plan on going home at some point today?

Forty minutes later and she was finally headed toward home. It had taken Wesley a few hours to figure out just what Jasmine had been doing and the game she’d been playing with him.

He frowned. If she thought the joke was on him she had another thought coming. If nothing else, he had shown her that he intended to stick to her like glue. Eventually, she would realize that he was not someone she could toy with.

An hour later, Wesley opened the door to his home at the same time his answering machine clicked on. “Wes, this is Kim. Give me a call when you get in. Zack and I want to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.”

Wes smiled when he heard Kim’s voice. He was glad Abraham’s daughter, Kim, had found Zack, a man to give her the love and happiness she deserved.

He would call her back and confirm dinner after his shower—a shower he needed to calm his overheated body. At this point whether he was hot from anger or sexual frustration he wasn’t sure. All he knew at the moment was that one part of him wanted to put his hands around Jasmine’s neck while another part of him wanted to put his hands on other parts of her.

A few minutes later he was stepping inside the shower stall and under the spray of cold water in an effort to quell the sexual tension and anger that had overtaken him most of the evening. Since getting home, nothing he’d done had helped him to relax.

Warning bells went off in his head. No woman had ever affected him this way and he didn’t like it worth a damn. By the time he had finished his shower and dried off, he decided he would spend a quiet evening at home reading. He was determined not to indulge in foolish fantasies like he’d done the night before.

Drawing in a calming breath he walked downstairs. He’d eaten dinner, but there was another hunger deep within him. He needed to get a firm grip or he was going to be in serious trouble.

He was about to walk outside on the terrace when he heard the doorbell. Remembering he had left his security gate unlocked, he figured his visitor was probably Jake. He made his way to the door and opened it to find Abraham Danforth standing there instead.

“Abraham, come in,” Wesley greeted, smiling. He’d always had deep respect and admiration for Abraham Danforth and knew that his political aspirations were genuine and sincere.

Wesley knew that Abraham truly loved his children, but he also acknowledged that following the death of Abraham’s wife in an automobile accident, the young widower had felt unable to give them the care they needed. Ian had told him that Abraham had sent them all off to boarding schools. He knew that Ian still held a lot of resentment regarding his childhood years of having to spend much of his youth trying to impress his father and feeling that he had failed to do so.

“Hi, Wes, I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“No, not at all,” Wesley said. From the first time he had met Abraham, he’d always seen the same depth of kindness and caring in Abraham’s blue eyes that was always there in his brother Harold’s. “Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.

Abraham shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I got a message that you wanted to see me. I just got back from a short trip to Atlanta.”

Wesley nodded. “I was wondering if you’ve received any more threatening e-mails?”

A few months ago, three separate e-mails had been sent to Abraham through his computer. Each had contained a cryptic message and had been signed “Lady Savannah.”

The first e-mail had read, “I’ve been watching you.” The second, “I’m still watching you.” The last e-mail that had read, “Expect the unexpected. This isn’t over,” and had contained a virus that had wiped out Abraham’s entire computer system. Because of the signature, everyone was assuming the person who had sent the e-mails was a woman and was wondering why she was targeting Abraham. The only people who knew about the e-mails were members of the Danforth family and they intended to keep it that way. The last thing they wanted was for the information to get leaked to the media. He could just imagine what Jasmine would do with information like that at her disposal. Abraham had hired a security specialist to secretly work on the case by the name of Michael Whittaker.

Abraham shook his head. “No, not since the last one that crashed my computer. I’m glad you were able to repair it for me.”

“I was glad to do it,” Wesley stated, leaning against his closed door.

The older man studied Wesley for a few moments then asked, “Is that all you had to talk to me about, Wes? For some reason I think there’s more.”

Wesley smiled. Just like Harold, Abraham could read him like a book at times. “Yes, there is something else. A woman by the name of Jasmine Carmody. I’m sure you probably know her by now.”

Abraham chuckled as he nodded. “Ah, yes, Ms. Carmody. She is a very dedicated reporter who can be relentless in her interviews. Although I have to admit she gets rather intense at times, I know she is merely doing her job.”

Wesley knew Abraham had stated things as diplomatically as he could. “She mentioned to me today that she heard your computer had gotten sabotaged and wanted to question you about it. I just thought I’d let you know. I also wanted you to know that she was rummaging through my garbage last week looking for anything that I may have tossed out after repairing your computer. Since I see she’s intent on getting into trouble, I’ve decided to keep a close eye on her.”

Abraham shrugged. “Although I’m as anxious as everyone else to know how Martha died, I have nothing to hide, Wes, so she can do all the digging that she wants.” The older man then studied Wesley intently. “But I am concerned about you.”

Wesley raised a brow. “Me? Why?”

Abraham studied Wesley for a few moments before speaking. “Because I know how you feel about female reporters and I don’t want you to think every one of them is like that young woman you dated in college. I know what a difficult time that was for you. It’s not always easy when a person’s trust has been betrayed.” He was quiet a moment and then added, “I often worry about you and Ian. The two of you have been hurt by women, and I don’t want the two of you to let it ever stop you from experiencing true love and happiness.”

An hour after Abraham left, Wesley was still thinking about the older man’s words. He couldn’t speak for Ian, but as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as true love and happiness when it came to a woman.

There wasn’t any woman that he wanted to share his life with and he intended to keep it that way.

Six

Jasmine stared at her car not believing what she saw. Of all things, she had a flat tire. She tried to remember what she had learned in that auto mechanics class she and Ronnie had taken a few years ago, and couldn’t recall much of anything. And when she tried using her mobile phone to call for road service, she had discovered her phone battery was low and she couldn’t make the call.

She had just come from a press conference at Crofthaven. The coroner’s report had ruled that Martha Jones, whose body had been identified in the attic last week, had died of a heart attack. It seemed that Martha had had a congenital heart condition and had run away from home several times in the past. From what the authorities had been able to piece together, after a heated argument with her overly protective mother, at the age of sixteen Martha had gone to the attic to hide out when she’d suffered a fatal heart attack. Since that part of the house was never used, Martha’s body had gone undiscovered for three years.

Jasmine sighed and glanced around. There weren’t too many cars traveling by and those who’d passed hadn’t slowed down to offer help. Thinking she would save time getting home, she had decided to use the two-lane stretch of road instead of the interstate to avoid rush-hour traffic. Now she didn’t like the thought of being stranded.

Maybe if she took a look at the tools she had in the trunk, she might recall how to change a tire. She went to the back of her car and began pulling out her jack and spare tire.

When she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, she nervously glanced over her shoulder. She was alone on a practically deserted stretch of highway. Releasing the jack from her hand she gripped her key chain that also held her pepper spray.

Ready to take aim if she had to, she turned quickly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was Wesley. She didn’t think she could be happier to see him.

“Need help?”

She shook her head. “Yes, please. I’ve got a flat tire. Do you know how to change one?”

He grinned. “Of course. If you need transportation for another interview, you can take my car and I’ll take care of things here and bring your car to you later.”

She glanced at his elegant silver-gray Mercedes and thought his offer was more than generous. “No, I’m all through for today and was on my way home. I tried calling road service but my cell-phone battery is low.”

“No problem. I’ll take over from here. If you’d like, you can go sit in my car and turn on the air conditioner. It’s getting pretty hot out here.” He couldn’t help noticing how her blouse had become damp and was beginning to stick to her perfectly shaped breasts. Today she was wearing a pair of slacks so he couldn’t see the gorgeous legs he’d thought about so often.

“No, I’m fine. Besides, I need to watch what you’re doing so I can learn what to do the next time.”

He met her gaze as he moved toward her trunk. “I hope there’s not a next time.” He meant it. He didn’t like the idea of her being stranded on an isolated stretch of road with a flat tire. He would have come by sooner had he not been talking with Harold and Miranda Danforth.

He’d considered them his unofficial adoptive parents for the past fourteen years. Miranda had been scolding him about looking too thin and not eating enough. He had decided to use the two-lane highway instead of the interstate due to rush-hour traffic and was glad that he had. He didn’t want to think how long Jasmine might have been stranded had he not come by.

“I hope there’s not a next time, too, but I still want to watch,” she said moving out of his way when he pulled out the jack and spare tire.

A few moments later she regretted watching Wesley. She barely paid any attention to what he was doing. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She couldn’t help noticing his powerful arms and broad shoulders and the way his slacks stretched tight across his muscular thighs as he removed the flat tire.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he was done. “That about does it, but you should get this tire fixed sometime tomorrow.”

“I will and thanks for your help. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” he said, placing the flat tire in her trunk. “Just make sure you get this repaired tomorrow.”

Jasmine nodded, then remembered she’d been planning to cook spaghetti for dinner. Wesley was used to eating the microwave kind and she wondered if he would appreciate eating the real thing for once. She made a quick decision to find out.

“I’m cooking spaghetti tonight. I know how much you like it and wondered if you’d like to join me?”

“For dinner?” he asked, raising a brow as he closed down the trunk.

“Yes, for dinner. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti and a salad.”

Wesley paused. He could think of no reason why he shouldn’t join her for dinner other than the one nagging him. He didn’t want spaghetti and a salad—he wanted her.

“Yes, I’d like to join you for dinner. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Thanks for your help just now. Do you want to follow me home?”

He glanced down at himself. He looked rumpled and felt sweaty. “I’d like to go home, shower and change first.”

“All right and I’ll go on home and start dinner.” A smile spread across her lips before she opened her car door.

“I’ll follow you.”

She lifted a brow. “Why? You fixed my tire.”

“Yes, but I still want to make sure you get home safely. On rare occasions, spares have been known to go flat, too.”

She nodded. “Should I expect you at my place in an hour or so?”

The smile she gave him had hit him right in the groin. “Yes, that would be the right time.”

He began walking back to his car as she started the engine to her vehicle thinking that that shower he intended to take needed to be a cold one.

Wesley smelled the delicious aroma of spaghetti sauce the moment he walked into Jasmine’s home.

“I hope you’re hungry since I made a huge pot,” Jasmine said, closing the door behind him.

She tried to ignore how good he looked in a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt. She recalled the first time she had seen him in jeans—that night he had appeared out of the darkness while she’d been going through his trash. And then, like now, she thought he looked utterly sexy.

“I’ve never known spaghetti to go to waste while I’m around,” Wesley said in an amused voice, breaking into her thoughts.

Jasmine couldn’t help but smile. “Good. You can come straight to the kitchen where I have everything set up. I thought it would be nice to sit on my screened-in patio. Although I don’t have a view of the Savannah River like you do, I have a view of a lake that I think is rather nice.”

“I’m sure it is.” His smile widened when he walked into her kitchen. It was almost as large as his but definitely better equipped. He liked the way she had things set up, including the way several pots hung from a pot rack.

“You can wash your hands in that bathroom across the hall while I get things ready on the patio.”

The cold shower hadn’t done him any good, Wesley thought as he went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He couldn’t get over how good she looked in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Like him, she had decided to dress comfortably for dinner. And yet the casual outfit still managed to turn him on.

When he returned to the kitchen she was loading everything on a serving tray. “There’s a wine rack around the corner in the area that separates the kitchen from the dining area. How about selecting us a bottle?”

“Do you have a preference?” he asked.

“No, whatever you’d like.”

He decided to select a red wine—one he knew was delicious with pasta. When he joined her on the patio, she had set the table and the spaghetti was served in a beautiful ceramic pasta platter. He smiled when he saw she had also baked a batch of garlic bread and he had a feeling it would taste as good as it looked.

“Everything is ready, so sit down and help yourself.”

He did, however, he waited for her to serve herself and say grace before digging in. “Umm…this is delicious,” he said moments later after taking his first forkful.”

“Thanks.”

“Who taught you how to cook?”

“My aunt. I went to live with her for a while after my mom died. She loved to cook and together we would try out a lot of dishes.”

“How long did you live with her?”

“Less than six months. My father loved my mother very much and he took her death extremely hard. He needed to go through that period of mourning alone. I think the only reason he remarried was because he thought he was doing me a favor.”

Although she didn’t say anything else, Wesley knew from what Jasmine had shared with him the other night that her father had unknowingly done her a disservice instead of a favor. It didn’t take much for him to gather that the woman her father had married was the stepmother from hell.

“Is your aunt still living?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No, she died five years ago.”

The sadness in her voice touched him. “Other than your father, do you have any other family?”

“No, he was an only child and my mother had that one sister who never had any children of her own,” she said thinking of her aunt Rena.

Wesley said nothing for a moment, and then said. “Your mother was a very beautiful woman.”

She met his gaze, surprised. “How do you know?”

“The locket.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment as she looked into his hazel eyes. She had almost forgotten about the locket and that he still had it. “Yes, she was beautiful.”

“You favor her.”

Jasmine’s breath caught as their gazes held. For a moment she wasn’t sure how to respond. His compliment had caught her off guard.