Westmoreland Desires: Riding the Storm / Jared's Counterfeit Fiancée / The Chase Is On. Brenda Jackson

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      Jayla grinned. “Why, Storm, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous,” she said playfully.

      Storm wasn’t in a playful mood. “Jealous, hell. I’m just trying to look out for you. What if that guy would have placed you in a situation you couldn’t get out of?”

      Jayla raised her gaze upward. “Jeez, give me the benefit of having common sense, Storm. We met in a public place and—”

      “He was groping you in a public place?”

      She took a sip of her drink and then said, “We were dancing.”

      Storm took a deep, calming breath as he tried reeling in his anger. “I hope you learned a lesson.”

      “I did, and there’s another reason I’ve given up on men.”

      He raised a brow. “Yeah, what’s that?”

      Her eyes turned serious. “Most are too controlling, which is something I definitely don’t need after having Adam Cole for a father. I didn’t start dating until I was seventeen, and I wasn’t allowed to do sleepovers at my friends’ homes.”

      Storm frowned. “There was nothing wrong with your father wanting to protect you, Jayla. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for a single man to raise a daughter, especially one as spirited and defiant as I’d heard you could be at times.”

      Jayla shrugged. “Well, whatever. You wanted to know the reasons I’d given up on men and I’ve just told you why I don’t date anymore. I figured what the hell, why bother. Men are too much trouble.”

      The eyes that were gazing up at him were big, round, sexy and serious. He shook his head. To tell the truth, he’d often thought women were too much trouble, too, but at no time had he considered giving them up. “I don’t think you should write men off completely.”

      The jazz band that had taken a break earlier started back up again and conversation between him and Jayla ended. While she became absorbed in the musicians, he sat back and studied her for a long time. Being concerned about his late mentor’s bratty daughter meant he was a good friend and not a jealous suitor as she’d claimed. He never cared enough about a woman to become jealous and Jayla Cole was no exception…or was she?

      Jayla sipped her drink and half listened to the musicians who were performing a very jazzy tune. Of course she had recognized Storm’s concern as a protective gesture but still, she couldn’t resist ribbing him about being jealous.

      He was so easy to tease. Charming, gorgeous and sexy as sin. But what she’d told him had been the truth. She had basically written men off. That’s why she had decided to use the fertility clinic instead of a live donor.

      She had made up in her mind that marriage wasn’t for her. She enjoyed her independence too much to have to answer to anyone, and men had a way looking at their wives as possessions instead of partners, a lover for life, his other half and his soul mate. Her time and concentration would be focused on having her baby and raising it. Then later, if she did meet someone who met her qualifications, he would have to take the total package—her and her child.

      She glanced over at Storm and saw his full attention was focused on the musicians. There was a dark scowl on his face and she wondered if he was still thinking about her and the Internet man.

      Running into him in New Orleans was definitely an unexpected treat. She decided to enjoy the opportunity while it lasted. So far, their day together had been so much fun…at least for half the time. The other half of their time together she’d been too busy fighting her attraction to him to really enjoy herself. He was no different from the other men she had dated—possibly even worse—but that didn’t stop that slow sizzle from moving through her body whenever he looked at her.

      A part of her couldn’t help but wonder if all the things she’d heard about him were fact or myth.

      “The riverboat has returned to dock, Jayla.”

      His words, spoken low and in a husky tone, intruded into her thoughts. She glanced around and saw that the riverboat had returned to the Toulouse Street Wharf. “We returned sooner than I thought we would,” she said, forcing down the lump of disappointment that suddenly appeared in her throat.

      “We’ve been cruising the Mississippi for over three hours,” he said, returning the irrepressible smile that had recently vanished from his lips. “Don’t you think it’s time we got back?”

      She shrugged, wondering if he’d gotten bored with her already. Without saying a word, she stood and began gathering up the debris from their meal. He reached out and stopped her. She looked up and met his gaze.

      “I’m not one of those men who expects a woman to clean up after him.”

      She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. His hand was still on hers, holding it immobile, and she could feel the sensuous heat from his touch all the way down to her toes. She pressed her lips together to fight back the moan that threatened to escape. How could he overpower her senses in such a way that she couldn’t think straight?

      Frowning, she blew out an aggravated breath as she pulled her hand from his and resumed what she was doing. “I don’t consider it as cleaning up after you, Storm. It’s an old habit. Whenever Dad and I ate together, I always cleared the table afterward. We had a deal. He cooked and I cleaned.”

      “Really?” he asked, studying her intently as his lips quirked into a smile. “And why was that? Can’t you cook?”

      She glanced up at him and the deep dimples in his cheeks did things to her insides that were totally beyond her comprehension. She figured it would have been a lot easier for her to understand if she wasn’t a twenty-six year old virgin. While in college she’d almost gone all the way with a senior guy by the name of Tyrone Pembrooke. But his roommate had returned unexpectedly, interrupting things. For her, it had been fortunate since she’d later discovered he had made a bet with his fraternity brothers that he would get into her panties in a week’s time. She had almost learned too late that the name the senior guys had given the freshman girls was fresh meat.

      “Yes, I can cook,” she finally answered Storm. “Dad loved home cooking. He thought food wasn’t worth eating if it wasn’t made from scratch. He just couldn’t get into those little microwave dinners that I was an expert at preparing.”

      Storm chuckled as he helped her gather up the remaining items off the table. “Hey, I can understand your father’s pain since I like home-cooked food, too.”

      They walked over to the garbage container and tossed in their trash. “You cook for yourself every day?” Jayla asked as they headed toward the lower deck to depart.

      “No. Since my shifts run twenty-four on and forty-eight off, I eat at the station when I’m working and the days I’m off I eat at Chase’s Place, my brother’s restaurant.”

      She nodded, remembering that his twin brother, Chase Westmoreland, owned a restaurant in downtown Atlanta. It was a really popular place; she had been to it several times and always found the food delicious. She glanced down at her watch. “When we get back to the hotel, it will be nap time for me.”

      “Umm, not for me. There’s still more for me to see. I think I’ll go check out that club on Bourbon Street that’s located right next to the drugstore. СКАЧАТЬ