“You were awfully pushy and presumptuous.”

Sensing victory, Jeb grinned. “I’m a Delacourt. What can I say? We’re a pushy bunch.”

“It’s not something to be proud of.”

“Pushy has its rewards,” he pointed out. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“On a business trip,” Brianna reminded him.

“I’ll stay out of your way when you’re working. I promise.”

Her gaze narrowed. “I assume you have your own room.”

“I’m pushy, darlin’, not crude. Of course I do.” His gaze settled on her face. “Unless you’d like me to cancel it.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she retorted with the first real smile she’d given him since they’d arrived at the Houston airport. “Then again, you have four days to change my mind.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Jeb assured her.

The Pint-Sized Secret
Sherryl Woods

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHERRYL WOODS

Whether she’s living in California, Florida, or Virginia, Sherryl Woods always makes her home by the sea. A walk on the beach, the sound of waves, the smell of the salt air, all provide inspiration for this writer of more than sixty romance and mystery novels. Sherryl hopes you’re enjoying these latest entries in the AND BABY MAKES THREE series for Silhouette Special Edition. You can write to Sherryl or—from April through December—stop by and meet her at her bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, 308 Washington Avenue, Colonial Beach, VA 22443.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

“Blast it, Dad, you have to do something about this. If you don’t stop it now, one of these days you’ll wake up and the whole company will have been eaten up by your competitors.” Jeb barely resisted the desire to slam his fist into the wall in frustration.

Bryce Delacourt thought he controlled the universe, and maybe he did. At least he’d always had a pretty tight grip on Delacourt Oil and on his family. One by one, though, his children were easing away. Trish—the youngest—had married a ranch hand across the state in Los Piños, and only a few months later Dylan had fallen for a pediatrician in the same city while conducting a search for her missing son.

More than miles separated them, though. As huge as Texas was, it was nothing compared to the gulf filled with hurt feelings and unyielding pride.

That left thirty-three-year-old Jeb and two younger brothers still in the family business, still trying to juggle their own independence and their father’s need to control everything and everyone around him.

Unlike his big brother, Jeb’s only form of rebellion was to try to carve out a niche for himself that would allow him to do the sort of undercover investigative work he loved, but within the world of Delacourt Oil. Sometimes—like now—he regretted not bolting as Dylan had. His brother would have welcomed him as a partner.

Over the past couple of months, though, there had been evidence of trouble inside the company. Jeb thought he’d finally found the perfect opportunity to prove to his father just how important it could be to have an insider staying on top of corporate leaks.

So far, however, his father hadn’t seen it his way. If anything, Bryce Delacourt was more determined than ever to keep all of his remaining sons bound to their desks—“paying their dues,” as he put it. He was also blind as a bat when it came to the possibility that someone was stealing the company’s oil exploration test results and feeding them to rival oil corporations.

Twice in recent months Delacourt Oil had lost potential new sites for drilling just as bids for the land were being formulated. To Jeb, that all but shouted that an insider was betraying them. To his father, it appeared to be no more than a minor annoyance.

“You don’t understand business, son. This sort of thing happens from time to time.”

“Twice? Back-to-back?” Jeb questioned.

“Sometimes. We’ll get the next one,” Bryce insisted with surprising equanimity for a man who had a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness. “I’m convinced this is nothing more than coincidence.”

“I wish I shared your optimism. Maybe I’d buy your theory—if the timing hadn’t coincided with the arrival of your new geologist,” Jeb said, doing exactly what he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t do—tipping his hand and making an accusation that he had no evidence to prove.

Brianna O’Ryan’s possible involvement had been nagging at him for weeks now, but he’d managed to keep silent. He’d wanted his father’s permission before he went digging any further for the truth. Obviously, judging from his father’s shocked expression, he should have handled this in reverse. He should have found the proof first.

“Brianna? You think she’s selling us out? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s as loyal as they come,” his father declared with passionate conviction. “She’s grateful to have the job here. Why, she hasn’t even turned thirty. She knows no other oil company would have moved her into a job with so much responsibility. Besides…” His voice trailed off.

Jeb caught something in his father’s expression. “Besides…what?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, and suddenly developed an uncharacteristic fascination with straightening things on his desk. His pens had never been aligned so neatly.

“Dad, what are you not telling me?”

“Nothing,” Bryce insisted, his expression setting stubbornly.

“Let me check into her background at least,” Jeb pleaded.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re in no position to question my judgment. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing when it comes to hiring someone in such a critical position?”

There was no answer to that that was going to please his father and Jeb knew it. He searched for a way to suggest that even the great Bryce Delacourt could occasionally be duped by someone intent on deceiving him.

“Spies tend to be clever at concealing things, Dad. That’s their nature,” he ventured cautiously. “If we’re up against a pro, not even your well-honed instincts would kick in. Why not let me look into it? If you’re so sure she’s innocent, what’s the harm?”

“The harm is that you could damage an innocent woman’s reputation.”

“I don’t intend to broadcast my suspicions,” Jeb countered. “Give me a little credit.”

“Forget it,” Bryce said again. “I don’t care how careful you think you’re being, word will leak out. Brianna’s good name will be forever tarnished.”

Jeb studied his father. He was missing something. Was there more going on between him and Brianna than Jeb had guessed? She was a beautiful woman, after all. He’d noticed that long before he’d had any cause to be suspicious of her. In fact, it was because of his own attraction to Brianna that he’d forced himself to try to examine objectively what little evidence he had. To his regret, no matter how he looked at the facts, he still thought everything pointed to Brianna being involved in the leaks to their competitors. The problems hadn’t arisen until after her arrival, and now they were being repeated.

Maybe his father was incapable of such objectivity. After all, his father wouldn’t be the first man to let his libido overrule his common sense. Maybe he had noticed the same drop-dead gorgeous body that Jeb had seen, though in a company the size of Delacourt Oil, surely there would have been rampant rumors if there had been anything personal going on between the president and his top geologist, a woman nearly thirty years younger than he.

Still, Jeb couldn’t deny that his father was a handsome, vital man, to say nothing of being a very wealthy one. There was little gray in his black hair, just enough to make him look even more distinguished. He jogged daily, used his home gym regularly. He could easily have passed for a man ten years younger. And if Brianna was deceitful enough to sell corporate secrets, why not make a play for the married CEO, as well?

Now in their late fifties, Bryce and Helen Delacourt had been married a long time. The road hadn’t always been smooth, despite the united front they tried to present to the world. Even so, Jeb didn’t think there had been affairs on either side. He simply didn’t want to believe that his father’s reasons for defending Brianna were personal. He was sure his father had too much integrity to engage in a tawdry office romance.

But despite his conviction, he felt compelled to broach the subject. If his dad was wearing blinders when it came to the beautiful Brianna, Jeb needed to know it. He could rally his brothers to his side, then together they could present a united front. His father would have to listen to reason and allow the investigation to go forward.

“Dad,” he began cautiously, “is there something going on here I don’t know about? Are you and Brianna—?”

“Stop right now!” In a way that demonstrated just how angry he really was, his father set his coffee cup down very carefully, very precisely, then leaned forward. “Don’t even go there, Jeb. Don’t insult me or Brianna O’Ryan. This is about the fact that I am still in charge of this company. It’s about who decides if and when we have a problem, nothing more or less,” he said in a cool, measured tone. “I won’t have so much as a hint that our top geologist is anything other than loyal. I sure as hell don’t want my own son suggesting that there’s something going on between the two of us. Are we clear?”

Only marginally reassured, Jeb knew when he was defeated. He sighed, but murmured dutifully, “We’re clear.”

“Good. That’s that then.” His father’s expression turned neutral. “So,” he inquired casually, “how was Dylan when you saw him? And Trish?”

Jeb wanted to protest the shift in topic but knew better. Any further discussion of Brianna would have to wait until his father’s temper cooled. Besides, maybe this new subject was an area in which he could actually engineer some progress. If so, the meeting wouldn’t have been a total waste of his time.

“Happy,” he told his father. “They both wish you’d break down and come to Los Piños to see them. They want to show off your grandkids.”

“They know where I live if they want to see me,” Bryce said stiffly.

Uneasy at being cast in the unfamiliar role of peacemaker usually played by Trish, Jeb tried to cut through to his father’s weak spot: family. “Dad, I know you were hurt that they settled somewhere else, that they’re out from under your thumb, but don’t you think it’s time to make peace, bring this family back together?”

“It’s not up to me. They’re the ones who left.”

Jeb shook his head. “This hard line is Mom talking, not you. You’ve always known when to cut your losses. Family has always meant the world to you. You miss them both. I know you do. You’re dying to spend time with your granddaughter and with Dylan’s new stepson. Plus Dylan has Shane one weekend a month now. Why can’t you just pop over there one day and surprise them? Mend some fences.”

This time it was his father who sighed. “Your mother…”

“Doesn’t know what she’s missing,” Jeb said. “She’ll come around if you do. She’s always overreacted when anyone hurts you. She thinks she’s being loyal and protective. I think you’re both cutting off your noses to spite your faces. We’re talking about Dylan and Trish here, not a couple of strangers who’ve offended you and can be excised from your lives without leaving a scar.”

His father didn’t respond, but when Jeb casually tossed a package of snapshots onto his desk, there was no mistaking the eagerness in his father’s expression as he reached for them. Jeb left him scanning each one as thoroughly as if they were geological survey maps.

Stubborn as a mule, he thought with a mix of affection and frustration as he left. It was a trait they’d all inherited, often to his father’s very sincere regret.

But because the stubbornness was as ingrained as breathing, Jeb had every intention of learning everything he could about Brianna O’Ryan, despite his father’s forceful edict to stay away from her. Because she was a smart, intriguing, beautiful woman, he figured it would be a pleasure, even if she turned out to be as honest as the day was long.

Which he doubted with every instinct he possessed.

The last thing Brianna wanted to do after a long day at the office was to drive clear across town in rush-hour traffic, but she never missed spending an evening with Emma when she was in Houston. There were too many nights she had to miss when she was on the road for Delacourt Oil. Besides, once she got to the residential treatment facility where Emma had been living for the past year, her day always brightened. All it took was one of her daughter’s shy smiles or some tiny hint of improvement in her movements.

Fourteen months ago Brianna hadn’t even been sure her little girl would live. Emma had been in the car with her dad when Larry had lost his temper at being cut off by another driver. In less time than it took to mutter an oath, he had been caught up in a full-blown incident of road rage. His car had been forced off the road into a culvert, where it had rolled over and over. Miraculously, he had walked away with barely a scratch, but just about every bone in Emma’s fragile four-year-old-body had been shattered.

For days, united by grief and fear, they had sat by Emma’s bedside, uncertain if she could possibly pull through, but God had spared her life. Then they had been faced with the long ordeal of healing and the very real threat that she would never walk again.

That had been more than Larry could bear. Consumed by guilt, he had walked away from the hospital one night and never looked back.

Until that moment, Brianna had thought she had a solid marriage. She had respected her husband, a man she had known most of her life, a man she had loved with every fiber of her being. She kept thinking he would come to his senses and come home, and for a long time she had been prepared to forgive him.

When the divorce papers had arrived in the mail a few weeks later, Brianna had been shocked. Filled with anger and pain at the betrayal, she had signed them with little regret. Or so she had told herself. Looking back, she could see now that Larry’s selfish act had left her with a heart filled with resentment and bitterness. She doubted she would ever trust another man. If a man as honorable as she had thought Larry to be could show such weakness in the face of adversity, how could she possibly risk her heart with anyone else?

Not that she had time for a personal life now, anyway. Her days began at dawn and stretched until midnight. As exhausting as they were, she was grateful to have her baby alive and a job that not only paid the exorbitant medical bills, but was totally challenging and fulfilling. For a time after the accident she had been terrified she might never find work in her chosen profession again.

During those first weeks of Emma’s recovery, Brianna had taken so much time off from work that she had lost her job. Stunned, she had been devastated as much by the loss of her insurance as by the blow to her career. How could Emma possibly recover if her mother couldn’t afford the best possible care? Brianna had needed to find a new job in a hurry. In a highly competitive field, that was easier said than done, and she was approaching the job search with more than the usual baggage that might daunt a prospective employer.

To her amazement, Bryce Delacourt had overlooked the firing and the demands of her daughter’s recovery when she’d applied for the top geologist’s position at his company. With astounding compassion, he had also seen to it that her insurance kicked in for Emma’s treatment, running roughshod over his carrier to make it happen. He would have her undying loyalty forever because of that.

They had made a deal, though, that no one at work would know about Emma. She didn’t want their pity, but more important she didn’t want special treatment because of her situation. She needed to have the people she worked with respect her as a professional. She was being brought in to supervise people who were older than she, people who had been there longer. She desperately needed to have credibility, to gain their trust. She knew all too well that no matter what their credentials, too often single moms weren’t taken seriously in the workforce. Because of that, Brianna threw herself into her work 150 percent and still found time for her daughter at the end of the day.

Running late tonight, she dashed inside the treatment facility with its brightly lit, sterile interior, and as always she was struck by the fact that there was no mistaking that this was just one step removed from a hospital. Only in the pediatric wing had an attempt been made to create an atmosphere that was both more cheerful and more like home. Here colorful murals had been painted on the corridor walls, the small area of the cafeteria reserved for children had been decorated in brilliant shades of blues, yellows and reds, and toys were strewn about as carelessly as they might be in a child’s bedroom at home.

“Hi, Gretchen,” Brianna whispered to the evening supervisor, waving as she passed the desk where the young woman was on the phone.

Gretchen glanced up, then covered the phone’s mouthpiece and called out to her. “Hey, Mrs. O’Ryan, wait a sec, okay?”

Brianna’s heart thudded dully as she waited for the nurse to finish her call. Had something happened today? Was Emma regressing? Her progress had come in fits and starts, in frustratingly slow little bursts, followed by weeks of status quo. All too often there were twice as many steps backward as forward. Brianna grinned ruefully at the mental pun. In Emma’s case, there had been no “steps” at all.

Gretchen, tall, blond and athletic, strode out from behind the desk, a smile forming. “Don’t look so worried,” she said, giving Brianna’s suddenly icy hand a warm squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Emma’s fine. I just wanted to be with you when you saw her.”

“Why?” Brianna asked, still not entirely reassured.

“You’ll see. She’s in the sunroom, watching TV.”

Brianna followed her down the hall, her mind whirling. It wasn’t something bad. Gretchen wouldn’t torture her if it was—she’d say so straight out. She was the most direct person Brianna had dealt with at the facility, always telling Brianna the unvarnished truth, even when the doctors danced around it, even when it was painful to hear. And because Gretchen was on in the evenings when treatments were over and the facility was settling into a quieter rhythm, she had more time to spend with anxious parents like Brianna.

In the sunroom, which was mostly glass, she spotted Emma at once with her halo of strawberry-blond curls, watching reruns of a favorite sitcom. For a moment, just the sight of her daughter was enough to clog Brianna’s throat with tears. She was so blessed to still have her baby. Everything else in her life was just window dressing.

“Emma,” Gretchen called out. “Your mom’s here.”

The wheelchair slowly rotated as Emma struggled with the mechanized controls she had finally mastered only a few days earlier. A frown of concentration knit her brow. She didn’t look up until she’d stopped in front of Brianna. Then that shy little smile stole across her face.

“Hi, Mama.”

Brianna leaned down and kissed her, resisting the desire to linger, to cling. Even at five, even under the circumstances, Emma craved her independence.

“Hey, baby. What’s up? Gretchen has been hinting you have a surprise for me.”

Emma nodded, clearly bursting with excitement. “Watch.”

Ever so slowly, with an effort that was almost painful to see, she slid to the edge of the seat, then placed her feet gingerly on the floor. Her knees wobbled uncertainly for a heartbeat, then stiffened. Finally she released her hold on the wheelchair and stood. All alone. Not quite upright, but completely, amazingly, on her own. Tears filled Brianna’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“Oh, baby, that’s wonderful.”

“I’m gonna walk, Mama. I am,” Emma said with fierce determination.

Overcome with emotion, Brianna knelt and gathered her in a fierce hug that for once Emma didn’t resist. For the longest time words wouldn’t come.

Then she leaned back, dabbed at her eyes and beamed at Emma. She stroked her baby’s cheek.

“Sweetie, I am so proud of you. You are going to be walking in no time at all. I never doubted it for a minute,” she said, even though she had. Late at night and all alone, she had worried and wondered if Emma would ever run and play like other kids again, if she would have the friends and the adventures she deserved.

This sweet, poignant moment was the reason she worked herself to exhaustion. It made all the sacrifices, the loneliness and the single-minded focus of her life worthwhile. Emma was going to walk again.

Chapter Two

Jeb was a big believer in the direct approach, especially when it came to his social life. There were plenty of people in Houston who thought of him as a scoundrel, nothing more than a rich playboy who thought he had a right to use women, but the truth was actually very different.

For all his carefree ways, he felt things deeply. Once he had wanted nothing more than to marry and have a family, but now he doubted he ever would. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever again trust a woman deeply enough to risk his heart. The one time he had, he’d been burned badly. He’d been engaged to a woman his senior year in college, a woman who’d stolen his heart during a freshman English class and never let go.

Everyone said they were a perfect match. His parents adored Gloria Ann. Her parents welcomed him into their lives as if he were a son. Only Dylan had expressed doubts, but because they were nebulous, instinctive doubts, rather than fact-based, Jeb had ignored him.

Too late he’d discovered that Dylan had been right. Gloria Ann was more fascinated with the Delacourt fortune than she was with him specifically. She had actually made a play for his younger brother, Michael, the one who was most clearly destined to become president of Delacourt. Turned down flat, she had attempted to smooth things over with Jeb, but his eyes were open by then. He’d walked away, filled with hurt and disillusionment.

After that, he’d made a conscious decision to keep his relationships casual and his intentions direct. There would be no promises of happily-ever-after, not on his part anyway. He couldn’t see himself getting past his now ingrained suspicions. Of course, Dylan and Trish had felt exactly the same way before they’d met their current matches. Given the family track record, it probably would be wise never to say never, but he knew himself well enough to say it with conviction.

In the meantime, there was Brianna. The very beautiful, very brilliant Brianna. There was no question of falling for her. He already had very valid reasons for distrusting her. Getting close to her would be a little like going into a foreign country without all the necessary inoculations very much up-to-date. That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the journey.

After a restless night during which he considered, then again dismissed, his father’s warning to steer clear of the geologist, Jeb concluded that the simplest way to discover just what kind of person Brianna was would be to ask her out, get to know her outside the office, see what her lifestyle was like and if there was any chance she might be spending income that outdistanced her Delacourt Oil salary.

He knew she was single. Divorced, according to the rumor mill, though no one seemed to know much about the circumstances. He also knew she’d turned down dates with half a dozen of their colleagues. Her social life—if she had one—was a mystery. He considered such discretion to be admirable, as well as wise. He also considered it a challenge.

And that was what brought him to the fourth floor at Delacourt Oil just after seven in the morning. Although he knew very little about Brianna’s habits, he did know that she was an early riser. A morning person himself, on several occasions he’d spotted her car already in the parking lot when he arrived. Obviously neither of them had the sort of exciting nightlife that others probably thought they did.

As he walked toward her office, Jeb wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Brianna’s lights on and her head bent over a huge geological map spread across her desk. Her computer was booted up, and all sorts of mysterious calculations were on the screen.

Since she was totally absorbed, he took a moment simply to stand there and appreciate the auburn highlights in her no-muss, no-fuss short hair. If her hairstyle was almost boyish, the graceful curve of her neck was contrastingly feminine. She was wearing an outfit with simple lines, in natural fabrics—linen and silk. Her short-sleeved blouse was the same deep teal shade as her eyes. Her only jewelry was a simple gold cross. From the look of it, he guessed it was an antique. A family heirloom, perhaps? At any rate, she wasn’t adorned with expensive diamonds, which might be telltale bounty from any ill-gotten gains.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked eventually, trying to tame hormones that seemed inclined to run amok at the mere sight of her.

Her head shot up, and startled blue-green eyes stared at him guiltily…or so he thought. Was she trying to pinpoint a new site she could pass on to the competition? When she made no attempt to hide the map, he told himself he was being ridiculous. Any investigator worth the title should think more rationally and behave more objectively than he was at this moment. So far, he had suspicions and coincidence and not much else, yet he’d already all but tried and convicted her.

“You,” she said, as if he were a particularly annoying interruption, despite the fact that they probably hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words since she’d been hired.

“Now is that any way to greet a man who’s come bearing coffee and pastry?”

“No thanks,” she said, pointedly going back to her study of the map.

Ignoring the blatant dismissal, Jeb crossed the room and perched on the corner of her desk, close enough to be impossible for her to ignore. He opened the bag he’d brought, removed two cups of coffee and two warm cheese Danishes. He wafted one, then another under her nose. Though she didn’t look up, there was no mistaking her subtle sniff of the aroma.

“Tempting, aren’t they?”

She heaved a resigned sigh, then sat back. “You’re not going to go away, are you?” Despite the exasperation in her tone, there was a faint hint of a smile on her lips.

He beamed at her. “Nope.” He held out the coffee. She accepted it with exaggerated reluctance, took a quick sip, then another slow, appreciative swallow.

“You didn’t get this here,” she said. “Not even the executive dining room makes coffee like this.”

“Nope. I made a stop at a bakery.”

She regarded him warily. “Why?”

“No special reason.”

“Of course not,” she said with blatant skepticism. “This is something you make a habit of doing for everyone around here. Sort of an executive welcoming committee, a way to let the troops know that management cares. Today just happens to be my turn.”

“Exactly.”

Her unflinching gaze met his. “Bull, Mr. Delacourt.”

Startled by the direct hit, he laughed. This was going to be more fun than he’d anticipated. “You don’t mince words, do you, Mrs. O’Ryan?”

“Not enough time in the day as it is. Why waste it searching for polite phrases when the direct approach is quicker?”

“A woman after my own heart,” Jeb concluded. “Okay, then. I’ll be direct, too. I have a charity ball to attend on Friday. It’s for a good cause. The food and wine promise to be excellent. How about going with me?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Vaguely insulted by the quick, unequivocal—if not unexpected—refusal, Jeb pulled out his trump card. “Max Coleman will be there,” he said innocently, watching closely for a reaction. Other than a slight narrowing of her lips, there was nothing to give away the fact that the name meant anything at all to her. He pressed harder. “Might be interesting to see how he reacts to knowing just how well you’re doing at Delacourt Oil, don’t you think?”

“Max Coleman is slime,” she said at once. “I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be human not to want a little revenge against a man who fired you.” He let his gaze travel slowly over her, waited until he saw the color rise in her cheeks before adding, “You look very human to me.” He winked. “Pick you up at six-thirty.”

He headed for the door, anticipating all the way that she might contradict him, might refuse even more emphatically, though he knew he’d found her Achilles’ heel.

Instead, she said softly, “Formal?”

He turned back, feigning confusion. “What was that?”

She frowned at him. “I asked if it was formal?”

“Definitely black tie,” he said. “Wear something sexy. You’ll bring him to his knees.”

Amusement seemed to flit across her face at that. “And you, Mr. Delacourt? Will it bring you to your knees?”

“Could be. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” To his sincere regret, in the past couple of minutes he’d discovered it was definitely possible. That alone should have been warning enough to induce him to abandon his investigation before it went wildly awry. Instead, it merely increased his anticipation.

Agreeing to go to a charity ball with Jeb Delacourt was quite possibly the dumbest thing she’d ever done, Brianna told herself as she raced around with her assistant during their lunch hour on Friday trying to find an appropriate gown that wouldn’t destroy her budget for the next six months. She had waited until the last minute as if to prove to herself that the evening didn’t matter.

And of course it didn’t mean anything. How could it? She barely knew Jeb Delacourt. They’d exchanged a few polite words on occasion, but that was it. She knew he had a reputation as a charming rogue, and she’d certainly seen evidence of that when he’d shown up in her office. He’d known just what to say to entice her into breaking her rule against dating coworkers. She would have to stay on her guard constantly.

But this ball wasn’t about spending an evening with Jeb at all. Not really. As he had guessed, it was about seeing Max Coleman again, maybe even forcing him to eat crow over his cruel, unsympathetic treatment of her during the worst weeks of her life. The opportunity to slap him in the face with her new success at Delacourt Oil had been too irresistible to pass up, just as Jeb had guessed it would be.

That was her reason for accepting. It remained to be seen what Jeb’s motives had been for seeking her out and asking her to share the evening with him. She sincerely doubted it had been some altruistic inclination to help her get even with her old boss. She also couldn’t help wondering just how much Jeb knew about her firing. The dismissal itself was common knowledge. The reasons behind it were less so. Even back then, she had worked very hard to keep her private life private.

Whatever Jeb’s motives, she was determined to avoid “sexy” at all costs. She’d seen the glint of masculine appreciation in his eyes. She figured his imagination was working overtime as it was. There was no point in giving him anything blatantly provocative to work with. She intended to keep Friday night all-business or die trying.

“What about this one?” Carly Winthrop asked, calling Brianna’s attention to a slender sheath of shimmery bronze. “It would be devastating with your coloring.”

Carly had picked the consignment shop for their lunch-hour excursion, declaring that the bargains were incredible. “All those rich biddies who can’t bear to be seen in the same dress twice take their castoffs there,” she had explained. “It’s like walking into designer heaven for all us poor folks.”

“How much?” Brianna asked, her gaze fixed on the bronze dress. She’d never owned anything like it and, to her amazement, she discovered she very much wanted to. She stiffened her resolve. “I’m not going bankrupt for this event.”

“Just try it on,” her assistant urged. “Then we’ll see about the price.”

“There’s a tag right on it,” Brianna pointed out. “What does it say?”

“It says it was made for you,” Carly responded, removing it and tucking it into her pocket. “Try it on.”

The dress really was a dream. Slinky and elegant at the same time, provocative but not daring. Brianna itched to reach out and run her fingers over the luxurious fabric. But a glimpse of the label told her that the dress had probably cost in the thousands when new. She doubted it had been reduced enough for her wallet.

“I’m sure I’ll find something else,” she said, unable to mask the regret in her voice.

“You want this dress,” Carly countered with the unerring conviction of a woman who’d learned to read her boss well. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m not going to pay a fortune for a dress I’ll wear one time and that’s that.”

“Think of it as an investment. You’re going out with one of Houston’s wealthiest, most eligible bachelors. Reel him in and you can have a closet filled with dresses like this one.”

“I have no intention of reeling in Jeb Delacourt or anyone else,” Brianna replied firmly. “I don’t have time for a social life.”

“Then what do you call this date?”

“Lunacy.”

Carly blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“It was a mistake, an impulse, a desire for revenge.”

“You have something against Mr. Delacourt?”

Brianna shook her head. “No, my battle is with someone else. Jeb is just giving me a chance to claim a very sweet victory.”

“Does he know that? Isn’t he going to be ticked off when he figures out you’re using him?”

“He knows,” Brianna assured her. “That’s how he got me to agree to go in the first place.”

Carly sank down on a delicate Queen Anne chair, the dress cascading over her lap in waves of bronze. “This is way too complicated for me. I like the kind of date where the guy who asks actually wants to spend time with me and vice versa.”

“In a perfect world, that’s what we all want. My world has veered sharply off course.”

“I don’t get it. You’re beautiful. You’re single. You have an incredible career. What’s off course?”

Carly’s incredulity was the price Brianna had to pay for keeping Emma a secret. “It’s not important,” she assured the young woman, who was fingering the fabric of the bronze dress longingly.

Brianna sighed. “Hand it over,” she said, gesturing for the dress. “It can’t hurt to try it on.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?” Carly replied, beaming her approval. “You will knock them all dead in this dress.”

“Now there’s a goal to aspire to,” Brianna said wryly as she went into the dressing room.

She slipped off her shoes, then her blouse and skirt. A glance at the dress also assured her she’d have to ditch her bra, too. When she was ready, she slid the dress over her head and felt the soft glide of silky fabric caress her skin as it fell into place. She zipped it up before daring a look in the mirror. When she finally looked, her mouth fell open.

She looked…incredible. Sophisticated and ultrachic. Dazzling. Those were definitely words that had never been ascribed to her in the past. She was more inclined toward tailored clothes in the office and rugged outdoor wear for on-site explorations. This dress turned an inveterate tomboy into a sleek, desirable woman. She wanted to strip it off before she got too used to the image.

She wanted to wear it forever. That was such a dangerous desire that she reached quickly for the zipper, but it was stuck. She poked her head out of the dressing room and called for Carly.

“Let me see,” her assistant commanded.

Brianna shook her head. “Just help me get the zipper unstuck. It’s all wrong for me.”

Carly yanked open the dressing room curtain, then gaped. “Wrong? You think this is all wrong? Either you’re blind or you’ve been staying out in the sun way too long and it’s fried your brain. This dress is perfect. It’s devastating.”

Wear something sexy. You’ll bring him to his knees.

Jeb’s words came back to taunt her. Was that what she wanted? Did she want to see Max Coleman’s mouth drop open as hers and Carly’s had? Did she want him to regret the day he’d dismissed her? Yes, but not because she looked so darned good in a dress. She wanted him to regret it because she was great at what she did and he was a mean-spirited fool.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to go to that ball armed and dangerous, so to speak. Temptation overruled logic. As Carly freed the zipper, Brianna made up her mind.

“I’ll take it.”

“Way to go, girl. Mr. Delacourt won’t know what hit him.”

Jeb? For just a moment, Brianna had been so intent on revenge, she’d almost forgotten her date. Sweet heaven, this was no dress to be wearing on a date with her boss. She needed something simple, a basic little black dress that could last for years, even if it did spend most of the time in the back of her closet. She swallowed hard and carefully replaced the bronze dress on its hanger.

“Carly, remember that black dress I was looking at?”

Carly’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “The one that looked as if it would suit your grandmother?”

“Yes, that one,” Brianna said firmly. “Get it for me, please.”

“Don’t tell me—”

“Just get it, okay? No lectures.”

“You’re going to regret this,” her assistant warned.

“No,” she said with a determined shake of her head. “No, I won’t.”

The black dress, with its long sleeves and white satin cuffs and collar, was sophisticated, too, she told herself. Even if she did look a little like a nun in it, she conceded, studying her reflection in the dressing room mirror. It was perfect for an evening with a man known far and wide as a scoundrel. It would send a very definite message that she wasn’t available, that this evening was all about business. Dignified and prim, it was the perfect solution.

She marched out to buy it, feeling reassured that there would be no contradictory messages being sent later that evening. But even as she stood at the counter to pay for it, her gaze kept straying around the consignment shop for one last glimpse of that spectacular bronze dress.

“Looking for something?” Carly inquired innocently.

“No,” she insisted.

“Well, it’s gone,” her assistant said. “In case you were interested, after all.”

Brianna felt some vague little spark inside her die. For a few minutes in that dress, she had felt like a sexy, totally alive female again, instead of a responsible professional, a single mom with no illusions about the lack of romance in her life. She’d had no idea a dress could transform the way a person felt about herself.

“Somebody bought it?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Obviously somebody recognized a knockout dress when they saw one,” Carly declared pointedly. “Snatched it right up without even trying it on.”

“Good for them,” Brianna said without much enthusiasm. She signed the credit card receipt for her basic black dress, accepted the package and left the store without a backward glance. “Let’s get back to the office. We have a lot of work to do. And Mrs. Hanover will be wondering what on earth happened to us.”

“Work?” Carly echoed incredulously. “You should be at home pampering yourself, taking a nice long bubble bath. I’m sure your secretary will cover for you, if anyone calls. And I can handle any emergencies that crop up. Not that there are a lot of emergencies with rocks that have been around forever.”

“Indulging in bubble baths is for people who don’t have a mountain of paperwork on their desks.”

“You really are going to give women a bad name,” her assistant grumbled when they arrived back at the office. “Mr. Delacourt is used to going out with society women who have nothing but time on their hands. You’re not even going for a manicure, am I right?”

Brianna grinned at her despondent tone. “You’re right.”

Carly shook her head. “Pitiful.” A moment later her expression brightened. “I know. I’ll give you a manicure, while you’re doing that all-important paperwork.”

“Manicures are not in your job description,” Brianna protested as she tossed her new dress onto the couch in her office and settled behind her desk.

“I’ll do it on my coffee break.”

“You don’t get a coffee break.”

“I do now.” She bounced out of Brianna’s office, then returned with three shades of nail polish. She held them up for Brianna’s inspection. “Which one?”

“Carly—”

Ignoring her, Carly pulled up a chair, chose the shade herself and began shaking the bottle. “This one, I think. Hold out your hand.”

Despite her very strong instinct to refuse, Brianna couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing as Carly instructed. She watched in fascination as the dark polish with its hint of bronze was applied. The younger woman glanced up and caught her expression.

“Haven’t you ever had a manicure before?”

“Not really. When you spend your life playing with rocks and digging around for soil samples, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’m lucky I even have nails.”

“Pitiful,” Carly decreed for the second time that day.

A few minutes later, when all the nails had been painted, she leaned back and studied them with satisfaction. “Perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” Brianna said wryly, but she couldn’t tear her own gaze away, either. Her hands no longer looked like a workman’s. In fact, they looked almost as if they might belong to a lady.

“Maybe I will go home and take that bubble bath after all,” she said.

Carly grinned. “All right! Remember to take notes tonight. I’ll want to hear every last detail on Monday.”

“I’m not going on this date for your vicarious enjoyment,” Brianna pointed out.

“I thought you said that it wasn’t a date, it was business. I am your assistant, aren’t I? If it’s business, we should have something on record.”

“You have a very twisted mind,” Brianna proclaimed.

“Will I get the details or not?”

A faint stirring of excitement fluttered in Brianna’s stomach. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like it. Because she owed at least some of that to her assistant, she nodded.

“You’ll get details. I’ll make it a point to remember what everyone is wearing and what food was served.”

“Forget all that. I just want to know what kind of a kisser Mr. Delacourt is.”

Brianna gulped. “Forget it. No kissing. No telling.”

Maybe if she repeated that often enough between now and six-thirty, she wouldn’t even be tempted. But something told her it was going to be a wasted effort, especially if Jeb Delacourt had other ideas.

Chapter Three

Brianna soaked in her hyacinth-scented bubble bath for a half hour, which was more feminine self-indulgence than she’d experienced in years. She fiddled with her hair and managed to coax a little curl into the short style, then added one of those fancy rhinestone-studded hair clips shaped like a butterfly. Emma had given it to her last Christmas. She’d had one of the nurses at the rehab center pick it out, then had wrapped it in paper she’d colored herself with swirls of holiday red and green.

At six o’clock Brianna slipped on the black dress and lost a little of the sparkle in her eyes. It was a lovely gown, but compared to the one she hadn’t bought, it was boring. It did nothing for her figure or her coloring. It just covered her body—most of her body, she noted glumly.

Which was exactly what she’d wanted, she reminded herself. She might want to make an impression on Max Coleman, but she needed to keep Jeb Delacourt’s mind strictly on business.

She turned away from the mirror just as the doorbell rang. Since it was barely six-ten, she doubted it was Jeb. She padded to the door in her stockinged feet and found a stranger on the doorstep.

“Yes?”

The man glanced down at a slip. “Brianna O’Ryan? That you?”

“Yes.”

He held out a large box and a form.

Brianna noted despondently that he didn’t even give her a second glance in her boring black gown. “Yes, but I’m not expecting—”

“Your name and address are on here. That’s what I go by,” he countered, and waited for her to sign.

She signed his form, accepted the box and went to get him a tip. When he had left, she stared at the box, then recognized the name of the consignment shop in discreet gold letters in the lower corner.

“What on earth?” she murmured, pulling off the lid, then unfolding layers of tissue paper. Her eyes widened when she saw the bronze dress nestled inside, along with a note.

Clutching the dress, she ripped open the note.

“I figured you’d be suffering pangs of regret about now and, if you aren’t, you should be,” Carly had written. “Enjoy.”

“I’m going to fire her,” Brianna muttered, even as she raced back to her room and changed into the killer dress. She sighed as she twirled in front of her mirror. “Then again, anyone who dares to defy the boss when she’s wrong ought to get a raise.” She took another excited survey of her image. “A really big raise.”

The charity ball turned out to be a masterstroke, Jeb concluded as he held Brianna in his arms and whirled her around the dance floor. She was concentrating so hard on looking for her ex-boss, she was paying little attention to the questions Jeb was asking. Her responses, for once, were uncensored, if not particularly illuminating.

Unfortunately, he was having an equally difficult time concentrating. He had been ever since he’d arrived on her doorstep and caught his first glimpse of her in a dress that even Cinderella would have envied. His mouth had gone dry, and he’d been having difficulty swallowing ever since. Why had he never suspected that the beautiful Brianna was capable of bringing a man’s heart slamming to a halt? Because of his taunt, he’d fully expected her to be covered from head to toe in black, something discreet, something that wouldn’t have every male head in the room swiveling for another, longer look. Unless he was very careful, he was going to forget what this evening was all about.

In fact, he’d been so dumbstruck when she opened her door that he hadn’t even taken note of what little he could see of the interior of her small townhouse. His surprise at the modest community in which she lived had vanished in a sea of purely masculine appreciation.

Now he caught the speculative glances of some of his oldest and dearest bachelor friends and tightened his grip on Brianna possessively. This reaction was a very bad sign, he noted, forcing himself to take a step back and look Brianna directly in the eyes. Another mistake, he realized, when his throat went dry again.

“Having fun?” he managed to ask finally.

“I didn’t come to have fun,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

“What the heck,” he countered. “Have some anyway. It’s free.”

Her gaze swept the room again. “Where is Max Coleman? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

“There are a thousand people crushed into this ballroom. I’m sure he’s here somewhere. If we keep dancing, we’re bound to bump into him.”

Brianna regarded him suspiciously. “He is going to be here, though, right? You’re sure of it.”

“That’s what I was told. Maybe we should take a break, get some champagne and you can tell me why he fired you.”

Even as she studied the crowd, she waved off his inquiry. “I’m sure you’ve seen the personnel records. It’s no big secret,” she said dismissively.

Actually Jeb had read the personnel file. It was almost as vague as Brianna herself was being now. “It wasn’t working out. I believe that’s what the file states. Was that it?”

She shrugged. “That about sums it up.”

“Max Coleman doesn’t strike me as a man prone to whims.”

For a fleeting moment her attention returned to him. “You’d have to ask him about that. One day I was working there, the next day, I wasn’t.”

“If your firing was that capricious, why didn’t you sue him?”

“Not my nature,” she said. “All I cared about was getting another job.” Her attention drifted yet again.

Jeb struggled to accept her response. It was so deliberately disingenuous, he almost wondered if Max hadn’t staged the firing just so she could be hired by his competitor, making her a well-placed spy for her old boss. So far, though, Coleman hadn’t been involved in any of the soured deals.

Besides which, Brianna genuinely seemed to despise the man. She might not have wanted to waste time and money taking him to court for wrongful dismissal, but she resented his actions just the same. That much was clear from the venom in her voice whenever she mentioned his name. Unless she was a better actress than Jeb imagined, her hatred was sincere.

“How about a little fresh air?” Jeb suggested when they had their champagne.

She cast one last, disappointed look around the room, then nodded. “Fine.”

Outside on the terrace, there was a soft breeze. The sky was brilliant with stars, competing with the lights of downtown Houston. But none of the scenery could hold a candle to the woman beside him. Jeb found himself wishing for the hundredth time that this were a real date, that he could take her in his arms and kiss her the way he’d been wanting to ever since he’d picked her up. Aware of just how inappropriate that would be on any number of levels, he held back. For a man reputed to have no scruples, now was a fine time for his to be kicking in.

He leaned back against the railing and sipped his champagne. “Tell me about your marriage,” he suggested idly.

Without the distraction of looking for Max, she was instantly suspicious. “Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Just making small talk, sweetheart. That’s what men and women do at these things.”

She shrugged off the explanation. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t spend a lot of time at charity balls.”

“Well, let me explain the rules, then. We eat a little, drink a little, dance when the mood strikes us, exchange pleasantries with people we know, chitchat with those we’d like to know better, gossip about the bad guys, network with business associates. Then we go home and crash, so we can do it all again tomorrow.”

“Two balls in one weekend?”

“Downright decadent, isn’t it?”

“Tedious.”

“Depends on your companion. Now something tells me you could relieve the tedium, if you’d just relax a little.”

“I am relaxed,” she protested.

She didn’t look it. She’d started looking uptight the instant he mentioned her ex-husband. In fact, she looked so thoroughly uncomfortable, so totally wary, that he couldn’t help himself. He forgot all about his resolve of moments ago and leaned forward and kissed her.

It was meant to be no more than a quick peck, something to startle her, maybe put a little color in her cheeks. But when she gasped softly, when her lips seemed to heat instantaneously, Jeb was lost. He dipped his head and kissed her again, longer this time, deeper, savoring the taste of cool champagne and hot Brianna. He lifted his hand, curved his fingers around her neck and felt the wild beating of her pulse beneath his thumb.

When he leaned back at last, she looked dazed. He felt as if he’d been sucker punched. The kiss wasn’t supposed to happen, but he’d kissed plenty of women without having his insides turn to mush. His reaction told him that this informal, unauthorized investigation of his had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

Distance, that’s what he needed. Not physical, but emotional. He knew a surefire way to get it, too.

“Let’s try that again,” he suggested innocently, and caught the flare of color in her cheeks. Before her protest could form, he grinned. “Tell me about your marriage.”

Just as he’d anticipated, her expression closed down. “It didn’t work out,” she said evasively.

“Sort of like the job,” he countered, deliberately trying to provoke her with innuendo. “Are there a lot of things in your life that just don’t work out?”

“No more than the average person,” she retorted. “I just know when to cut my losses.” She gave him a hard once-over. “This seems like a good time to do that tonight.”

The suddenness and depth of her anger took him by surprise. She moved before he could stop her. Jeb watched her cross the terrace, spine stiff, shoulders square. The effect was lost a little when his gaze drifted lower and he saw the sway of slim hips encased in bronze. Damn, but she was something.

He followed her inside at a leisurely pace, so leisurely that he might have risked losing her in the throng if Max Coleman hadn’t chosen that moment to put in an appearance. Brianna was frozen in place, her face pale.

“You okay?” Jeb asked, moving up beside her.

Apparently she counted Jeb as the lesser of two evils, because she linked her arm through his and plastered a smile on her face. “Just peachy,” she announced. “I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time. Since it’s the only reason I’m here tonight, let’s make the most of it.”

Jeb could have chosen to be insulted by the role he’d been cast in—second fiddle to revenge—but if it brought her back to his side, he was more than willing to go along with her. He wanted to see how she interacted with her old boss, see if he could glean any relevant information from their exchange.

Max Coleman had scrambled his way to the presidency of a small Houston-based oil conglomerate. He’d started in the fields, studied hard and been driven by blind ambition to reach the top. He wasn’t as polished as Bryce Delacourt, nor as handsome, but he presented a commanding figure, especially in a well-tailored tuxedo. His gaze settled on Brianna, then moved to Jeb.

If seeing her made Max uncomfortable, spotting his rival’s son made him downright nervous, but he covered both reactions quickly with a smile that only a close observer would recognize as fake.

“Brianna, my dear, you’re looking lovely tonight. How nice to see you here. Things must be going well for you.” He glanced pointedly at Jeb, as if to imply that he now knew why she was succeeding in the aftermath of his dismissal. “I had no idea that you and Jeb were so close.”

“First date,” Jeb retorted. “I needed the most beautiful woman in Houston on my arm tonight, so naturally I thought of Brianna. She’s become a very valuable asset to Delacourt Oil.” He hesitated ever so slightly. “And to me.”

Her startled gaze shot to his, as if she couldn’t believe the audacity of the remark. He winked at her, drawing her into the game.

“Yes, Brianna was always as interested in corporate benefits as she was in the challenges of her work,” Max said, then gave them both a curt nod and walked away.

Jeb stared after him, puzzling over the comment. It sounded like the embittered response of a man who’d been wronged in some way, but how? Had he made advances toward her and been spurned? Was her firing as simple as that, a sexual harassment case that she hadn’t had the will to fight?

Glancing down, he caught the bright red patches of color in her cheeks and realized that, whatever the man had meant, his comment had hit its mark.

“What was that all about?” Jeb asked.

“Just Max getting in the last blow,” she said. “I’d like to leave now, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” he said, catching her off guard. “You can’t walk away in defeat. You need to show the man he can’t get to you.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Being here with you certainly backfired.”

“Darlin’, that was just the first volley.” He beckoned her toward the dance floor. “Now let’s show the man what you’re made of.”

A fast tune had just started, and Brianna stared at Jeb as if she’d never been on a dance floor before in her life. “I can’t.”

“You don’t know how? You don’t want to? Or what?”

“Dancing is not going to prove anything to Max Coleman,” she said, as if she pitied Jeb for being foolish enough to think otherwise.

For the moment Jeb forgot all about his secret mission for the evening and concentrated on hers. She looked vulnerable and defeated, and he was too much of a gentlemen to let that continue.

“Then you’re not doing it right,” he assured her, sweeping her into a dip that clearly left her dizzy. She was laughing by the time he brought her upright.

“Okay,” she said, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Let’s do it.”

For the next three dances, they ruled the floor. The crowd parted to observe, cheering the intricate steps, applauding and begging for an encore when each song ended. Jeb caught Max’s expression as they whirled by him in one tempestuous sweep of the room. He looked as if he’d swallowed something particularly nasty.

Brianna caught his expression, too, then gazed up at Jeb. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I think our job here is done.”

Jeb nodded his agreement. “Let’s blow this place.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl and in that instant, Jeb felt himself falling for her. She tantalized him. He didn’t know her. He didn’t understand her secrets. He had no idea what made her tick.

Which meant he was going to have to keep seeing her, he concluded. Not that it was a hardship. She fit a little too neatly into his embrace. She smelled of some exotic scent that drove him a little bit crazy. He found himself wanting to kiss that graceful curve of her exposed neck.

None of that was supposed to happen, of course. Getting turned on by the subject of an investigation tended to cloud objectivity. He might not be the professional P.I. his brother was, but he knew that his current state of arousal was big trouble.

Still, he had no choice. Not if he was to save Delacourt Oil.

And maybe not even if he was to save himself.

After their triumph on the dance floor, the evening had gone downhill. Jeb couldn’t coax more than a one-word response from Brianna all the way home. At her house, she fled from his car. She barely uttered goodbye, much less an invitation to come inside. He had sat in the driveway for fully ten minutes trying to decide whether to follow her. At midnight, he’d finally concluded that he needed to give her the space she so obviously craved. He figured eight to ten hours ought to be enough.

He was up at dawn on Saturday and on the phone to Dylan.

“Some of us actually like to sleep in on the weekends,” his big brother protested when Jeb awakened him. “Especially when there’s a beautiful woman in bed beside us.”

“Stop bragging,” Jeb retorted. “Besides, this is important.”

“And my plans for the morning weren’t?”

“You can get back to them in a minute.”

Dylan sighed heavily. “Afraid not. I can hear the patter of little feet running toward the kitchen right now. Soon I’ll be blessed with the sound of cartoons at top volume. Then my bride will desert me.”

“Okay, okay, you have my pity and my apology. Now will you listen for a minute?”

“Why not? Looks like I don’t have anything better to do.”

“I went out with Brianna last night.”

Dylan whistled. “The lovely spy?”

“We don’t know she’s a spy,” Jeb said defensively.

“Hey, you’re the one who pinned the label on her, not me. What’s changed?”

Jeb ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s…I don’t know. She’s not what I expected.”

“Holy mackerel, you’ve gone and fallen for her, haven’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It was one date. Nobody falls for a woman in one date. Besides, I’m investigating her. How stupid do you think I am?”

His brother laughed. “Not stupid. Just male.”

“You are not helping,” Jeb accused.

“What do you want from me?”

“Advice.”

“About your love life?”

“About the investigation, dammit!”

“Let’s take it from the top then. Tell me again why you suspect Brianna of leaking Delacourt secrets.”

“Timing, mostly. She arrived and suddenly deals started going sour.”

“What does Dad say?”

“That I should stay the heck away from her, that she’s totally trustworthy, etcetera.”

“Maybe you should listen to him for once.”

“I can’t ignore my instincts. There’s something going on, Dylan. I can feel it.”

“Maybe there is, but maybe Brianna has absolutely nothing to do with it. Circumstantial evidence, especially the little bit you have, won’t cut it. You need some cold hard facts. There are other geologists. Any one of them could be behind the leaks.”

“Out of the blue? They’ve been here for years.”

“But maybe one of them has just been hit with huge medical expenses, or college tuition, or blackmail. The possibilities are endless. I think you’d better back off with Brianna. Start from scratch. Look at everyone who had the information that was leaked. Check into their finances. If you want to fax me a list of names, I’ll do some of the financial checks for you. Then you can go from there.”

Jeb could see the logic of Dylan’s plan, but it grated just the same. If he did as his brother suggested, he’d have to stop seeing Brianna. Right now he had the excuse of the investigation. If he kept seeing her, he would have to admit it was personal, and then what? What if the feelings that had stirred in him last night deepened, and then it did turn out that she was guilty? He’d be caught smack in the middle of a disaster.

“Jeb? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

Dylan groaned. “But you don’t want to stay away from Brianna, do you? It’s already gotten personal. How far has it gone, little brother?”

Jeb saw little point in lying. Dylan was already assuming the worst. “Not far. I kissed her. That’s it.”

“You think she’s a corporate spy and you kissed her. Terrific. That’s really using your brain.”

“I didn’t consult my brain. That’s the difference between you and me, Dylan. Sometimes I just react to the moment.”

“Then perhaps you ought to severely restrict the moments you spend with Brianna,” his brother suggested.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve already made plans to see her again this morning.” He didn’t mention that Brianna knew nothing about those plans. “I want to check a little more closely into her lifestyle.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m trying to. You’re just not listening. Fax me those names, Jeb. And keep your distance from Brianna. See her today if you have to, but try to think of her as the enemy. Normally I recommend thinking of a suspect as innocent until proved guilty, but maybe that’s not such a good idea in this instance. Maybe considering Brianna a bad guy will help you to keep your hormones in check until we know what’s really going on.”

Jeb accepted his brother’s advice without comment. It hadn’t worked the night before, but he was willing to give it another try. This time he wouldn’t even take coffee, much less pastries, when he paid his surprise visit.

Chapter Four

“Tell me about the party, Mama,” Emma begged when Brianna stopped by the rehab facility on Saturday morning. “I want to know everything. Was your dress beautiful? Did it have lots of lace and ruffles? What color was it? Pink? That’s my favorite, you know.”

Brianna held back a chuckle at Emma’s idea of high fashion. “I know you love pink, but my gown was bronze and there wasn’t a ruffle on it. Sorry, angel. You know I’d look terrible in pink. That’s your color. You look like a little princess when you get all dressed up in pink.”

“I’ll bet you looked like a princess even if you were wearing some other color,” Emma said loyally.

“I don’t know about that.” Brianna thought of her escort, who had looked very much like a prince in his fancy tux. The formal attire suited his dark good looks, made him look more than ever like the scoundrel she had to keep reminding herself he was.

Not that he’d behaved that way…for the most part. For the major portion of the evening, he’d treated her with the utmost respect. He’d been a perfect gentleman. And she, perverse idiot that she was, had hated it. Apparently some long-dormant part of her had wanted him to kiss her, had wanted him to make a pass at her when he’d danced her into the shadows of the huge ballroom. Instead, when he’d merely settled her on a bench and gone for champagne, she had been ridiculously disappointed. He was a rogue, wasn’t he?

Later, when she got her unspoken wish, when he kissed her on the terrace, the results had been devastating. Her blood had almost literally sizzled. She hadn’t realized that was possible. She had also recognized belatedly just how intoxicatingly dangerous that could be.

After the kiss, they had danced some more, putting on a show, in fact. Then they had talked. And talked. Most of the time Jeb had been totally, utterly charming. Attentive. Witty. Compassionate, especially when it came to helping her claim revenge against Max Coleman. In fact, she hadn’t met a man she’d been more attracted to in years.

Or a man who was more out of reach. She had absolutely no intention of risking her job by getting involved with someone at the office, a Delacourt no less. She had no time for a relationship, period. Talk about courting disaster. She simply couldn’t risk it, not with so much at stake.

Besides, there had been all those probing questions he’d dismissed as nothing more than small talk. She knew better. He was after something, though she honestly had no idea what. Could it really be as simple as a man wanting to get to know a woman? She might be out of practice at dating, but her instincts said no. She could still recognize idle conversation. She did a lot of networking, especially with men. She knew how to play that game. Jeb’s questions had been too sharp, a little too pointed. They would have made her uncomfortable even if they hadn’t come so close to exposing all her secrets.

“Mama?”

Emma’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Sorry, baby. My mind wandered.”

“Wandered where?”

“Back to the party,” she said, forcing herself to inject a note of enthusiasm into her voice as she described all of the elegant clothes and beautiful decorations.

Emma had too few chances to hear about anything that could carry her away from this confined world in which she lived. Their rare outings were seldom more exciting than the drive-through line at a fast-food restaurant, though hopefully that would change now that Emma was getting more adept at dealing with her wheelchair. Up until now she had stubbornly refused to go anywhere unless she could remain in the car.

“I don’t want people to stare,” she declared, and that was that.

One day Emma’s world would open up again, but until then Brianna did her best to let Emma live vicariously through her own activities. Her site explorations were seldom as intriguing for a five-year-old as last night’s dance clearly was.

“It sounds like a fairy tale,” her daughter concluded with a little sigh when Brianna had finished. “I wish I could go to a ball and dance.”

Brianna’s heart broke at the wistfulness in her daughter’s voice. In Emma’s case, it wasn’t just childish yearning to be grown-up. Unspoken was the very real fear that she might never be able to walk, much less dance.

“You will, sweetie,” Brianna promised in an attempt to reassure her. “One of these days you will make all of the other girls weep with envy when you arrive with your handsome prince.”

“What about your prince? Is he very handsome? Can I meet Mr. Delacourt?”

The very idea horrified Brianna. “No,” she said curtly, then tempered it by adding, “He’s a very busy man.”

“But you like him, don’t you? You haven’t gone out with anyone since Daddy left, so you must.”

“This was just a business occasion, Emma, not a real date,” Brianna said, ignoring the fact that for a few minutes, out on the terrace, it had felt very much like a date. In fact, it had felt like the start of something important.

Then he’d started in with those questions again, and the mood had been lost.

“Oh,” Emma said, clearly disappointed.

Brianna decided it was time to change the subject. “Want to try to stand up for me? Gretchen says you’re getting better at it every day.”

Emma shook her head. “Not now.”

“It’s important to keep trying.”

Emma’s expression set stubbornly. “No,” she said as emphatically as she had when it had been the primary word in her vocabulary.

“Please,” Brianna coaxed.

“I don’t feel like it.”

Brianna sighed. She’d had to learn not to push, though it went against her nature. But she knew Emma had to be allowed her rebellions. There were so few things she had control over in her life. The therapists were demanding taskmasters. The doctors poked and prodded. Occasionally Emma had to be permitted to make her own decisions about what she was ready to try.

“Maybe next time, then,” Brianna said cheerfully, and gave Emma a kiss. “I love you, baby. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. If the weather’s nice, I’ll bring a picnic and we can eat lunch outside. Would you like that?”

Emma shrugged, then turned away to face the TV, even though Brianna doubted she really cared what was on. It was just a way to show her displeasure with her mother.

Once again filled with the sensation that she had let her daughter down, Brianna left. She’d known there would be days like this, days when she would feel utterly and totally defeated. The doctors, the counselors and Gretchen had repeatedly told her it was perfectly normal, but she wanted so badly to be a positive influence in Emma’s life. She wanted her little girl to be motivated, to feel loved. She wanted her to fight her injuries, not her mother.

Brianna was dragging by the time she got home, lost in waves of self-pity and regrets. Though her pulse took an unwanted leap at the sight of Jeb waiting on her doorstep, she was in no mood to welcome him.

Even so, for a fleeting moment she found herself regretting that she hadn’t dressed in something other than jeans and a faded teal T-shirt when she’d run out of the house to pay a quick visit to Emma. She looked decidedly frumpy, while he managed to make his own jeans and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up look like something out of a men’s fashion spread in GQ.

Why was it that she constantly felt at a total disadvantage with this man? She worked in a man’s world. She had never been easily intimidated, but there was no denying that Jeb rattled her. He could shake her composure without even opening his mouth. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that he deliberately kept her off balance. She couldn’t get a fix on his real intentions.

And so she approached him with wariness.

“Where have you been this early on a beautiful Saturday morning?” he asked as she neared. “Not the office, I know, because I called there.”

Even though his tone was curious rather than accusatory, Brianna instinctively bristled. “Checking up on me, Mr. Delacourt?”

“Now that I’ve held you in my arms, I think you can stick to calling me Jeb,” he chided. “No, I wasn’t checking up on you, just looking for you. I thought you might want to do something today. It’s a little late now, but we could go out for breakfast.”

“Sorry. I’ve already eaten.”

“So that’s where you were. Having breakfast with a friend?”

Brianna grasped the explanation eagerly. “Yes. If I’d known you were thinking of coming by, I could have told you I had a prior engagement. Some people actually call ahead.”

He shook his head. “Too easy to get turned down. It’s harder for you to say no to my face.”

Despite her dark mood, her lips twitched with amusement at his feigned vulnerability. “Is that so? Well, I’m sorry, but the answer is still no.”

“How about lunch then? Or dinner?”

“I thought you had another ball to attend tonight.”

“I’ll skip it.”

“Won’t that upset your date?”

“I was planning on going solo. They have my money. No one will miss me.”

Brianna doubted that.

He gave her one of those winning, megawatt smiles. “So, how about it?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Another date?”

“No.”

“Too much to do?”

“Yes.”

“You work too hard,” he scolded. “It’s not good for you. You need to relax, have some fun.”

“I thought that’s what I did last night. Now I have to catch up.”

“On?”

“Housework. Paperwork. I have an important business trip at the end of next week.”

Clearly undaunted, he suggested, “Tell me about it.”

“You’d be bored to tears.”

“It’s my family’s business. Why would I be bored?”

Put in her place, Brianna searched for an explanation that would ring true. She couldn’t very well tell him that he made her uneasy, that she simply wanted him to go, that she didn’t want to get too comfortable with having someone—especially him—around.

“Rumor has it that you don’t care all that much about oil, that you’re working at the company because your father expects it,” she said eventually. “Naturally I assumed hearing about dirt samples and rocks would bore you.”

He surveyed her with one of those knowing, penetrating looks that he obviously knew rattled her. “I’ll bet you could make it interesting.”

“I don’t have time to try,” she said flatly. Then because her first tactic had clearly backfired, she tried another one. “Before I get down to work, I have to do my chores around here. With my schedule, I have to stick to a routine.”

“In other words, you’re in a rut.”

“I prefer to think of it as living a structured life,” she said testily.

“Okay, then, I’ll help,” he volunteered.

Taken aback by the unexpected offer, she stared at him. “You’ll help?” she repeated, as if his offer hadn’t been entirely clear. When he nodded, she asked, “Why?”

“Why not? I can run a vacuum or dust as well as the next person, though I’m a little curious why a woman with so much on her plate and making your salary wouldn’t have a maid.”

“Because I have better uses for my money,” she said tersely, brushing past him and going inside, hoping to put an end to this absurd discussion. If she could have, she would have slammed the door in his face, but there were a whole lot of reasons for not doing that, starting with his ability to make trouble for her at the office. Naturally, he didn’t take the hint. He followed.

The minute he crossed the threshold, she very nearly panicked. Had she left the door to Emma’s room closed, as she usually did? Though the townhouse was a recent acquisition, purchased in the aftermath of the divorce because she no longer had the funds or the time to cope with the upkeep on the house she and her ex had shared, she had decorated a room for her daughter. It was filled with dolls and stuffed animals, the overflow from a collection too big for Emma’s room at the rehab center.

The bed was a little girl’s dream, a white four-poster with a pink eyelet canopy and matching comforter. Emma had picked it out just before the accident, but she had never slept in it. It had been delivered during those awful days when they hadn’t known if she would live or die. When Larry would have sent it back, Brianna had insisted on keeping it, clinging to it as a talisman that her daughter would get well and come home again.

“Excuse me a minute,” she said, and dashed upstairs to check the door. If she couldn’t talk Jeb into leaving, she had to be sure he wouldn’t spot any evidence that she had a daughter.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.