Автор: Brenda Jackson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408909997
isbn:
“What makes you think I was going through your garbage?”
He lifted a brow at her question. Did she intend to play dumb? Then he would educate her quickly. “Because I saw you, Ms. Carmody. How would you like to be the one to make the front page for once? I can just see the headlines now and wonder what your boss at the Savannah Morning News would say if I told him what you did. There’s a law against harassment and invasion of privacy, not to mention trespassing.” From her expression he could tell that she didn’t want to think what her boss would say, or the charges Wesley could possibly bring against her.
She sat up straight in her chair. “I was just doing my job.”
He gave her a considering glance. “Since when did your job include breaking the law? If that’s the case then maybe you should switch professions.”
Jasmine breathed deeply, knowing he had a right to be upset and she would give him that right…to a point. “Look, I admit I went too far that night. I’ve never gone through anyone’s garbage before. I was desperate.”
Wesley narrowed his eyes at her. If she thought he would accept that as a good excuse then she had another thought coming. Caroline Perry had been desperate, too, and he had learned the hard way that desperate women, especially in her profession, couldn’t be trusted. They didn’t care who they hurt as long as they got their story.
“I’m glad you can easily admit to your desperation, Ms. Carmody, and I for one know that a desperate person will do just about anything. But I can’t let you do that since you’re so hell-bent on ruining the Danforths’ good name. So I’ve decided to give you a taste of your own medicine. I want you to know how it feels to be followed and spied on every single day.”
She contemplated him for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what he was saying. “What are you talking about?” she finally asked.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite touch his eyes. “What I’m talking about is you not respecting the privacy of others. I will become your shadow.”
He watched as she comprehended what he’d said. Her eyes widened then flashed with anger when she said. “You’re going to stalk me?”
Wesley rolled his eyes upward. “Call it whatever you like, however, I think stalking is too strong a word. I see it merely as a way to keep you in line and out of trouble, especially until Abraham Danforth’s senate race is over.” It was easy to see that she was livid. Hellfire mad was a definite. Pretty damn pissed wasn’t far behind.
“I have a job to do, Mr. Brooks,” she stated in a clearly agitated voice like that was all the reason she needed.
Their gazes met, held, clashed for several seconds before he said, “Then do it, Ms. Carmody, but not at the expense of hurting innocent people. I know your kind. You’re a reporter who will do anything for a story. I suggest you ask your boss to transfer you to the lifestyle section of the paper or the fashion column, something that suits you better.”
“Now you look here—” she began, looking both hostile and beautiful at the same time.
“No, you look here,” he said, his tone brittle. “I will follow you around whether you like it or not. And if you complain to the police with some foolishness about me stalking you, then I will gladly file charges and have my attorney hit your newspaper with a gigantic lawsuit. And as far as your locket, I will keep it until I feel you deserve to have it back.”
“That’s blackmail!”
Wesley smiled. “I want to think of it as an investment of my time in your rehabilitation. It will be my guarantee that you’ll leave the Danforths alone.”
She glared at him. “That won’t happen.”
“Then I’ll continue to be your shadow and I’ll keep your locket.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t keep it. That locket belongs to me and I can prove it.”
“Prove anything you want, but you’ll have a hard time explaining to a court of law how you lost it on my property.”
Angrily, Jasmine stood. “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over.”
Wesley shrugged. “Fine. You and I don’t ever have to speak again, Ms. Carmody, just as long as you know I will be there watching your every move.”
She frowned. “And I’m supposed to just accept that?”
He smiled at her. “At the moment, you don’t have a choice.”
Apparently she heard the deep finality in his voice and decided against further argument.
Without having anything else to say, she turned and walked out of the coffeehouse.
* * *
The man was a regular pain in the rear end, Jasmine thought, glancing in her rearview mirror. Wesley Brooks must have left the coffeehouse the minute she did in order for him to be following her. He was making sure she knew he intended to do just what he had said, starting tonight.
She couldn’t really label him a stalker since she knew he didn’t mean her any physical harm; emotional harm was another story. He just intended to drive her nuts by constantly being her shadow and watching her every move. She hoped that he wore out sooner than she did and she had no intentions of letting him get next to her. If he didn’t have anything better to do with his time, then that was his problem.
She exhaled a deep breath when she recalled just how good he had looked at the coffeehouse. It had taken all of her resolve to focus on what he’d been saying and not on the movement of his mouth. He had the most sensuous pair of lips that she had ever seen on any man. They were full and appeared soft, although the words pouring from them had been harsh. Then there was his voice. She had heard the subtle warning in the deep, rich timbre, and for a brief moment she’d begun to think she was listening to and looking at a Morris Chestnut clone. But she had to grudgingly admit that not even her favorite Hollywood actor had the ability to fill her with unrequited lust like Wesley.
A sharp awareness had cut through her body the moment she had joined Wesley at the table. Her senses had been teased, stretched, ignited, and every time she had met his gaze, her breasts had tingled against the material of her blouse.
She shook her head and couldn’t help but smile. She was definitely pathetic. Here the man was out to get her and all she could think about was…making love with him—which was unusual since she was still a virgin and damn proud of it. In fact, her stepsisters enjoyed calling her “Proud Mary.”
Jasmine knew her stepsisters had been sexually active for a long time—probably since their high-school days. But she’d had more things to do with her time than to become a notch on some man’s bedpost. Besides, she had decided that her education meant more to her than some jock with a high testosterone level. And while in college, she had been too busy making the grades to get serious about anyone.
She was only twenty-six and figured she had plenty of time to have sex. Until then, she intended to keep her clothes on and concentrate on trying to get as far ahead in her career as she could.
She made a turn at the next traffic light and sure enough, Wesley СКАЧАТЬ