The Bride Means Business. Anne Marie Winston
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known Dax wouldn’t slink away quietly. No such luck. He came up beside them and took Marina’s hands from Jillian’s, a smile so much warmer than the hateful greeting Jillian had received sliding across his tanned features that she blinked and stared.
Then she realized her sister was looking at her for help, her pretty face clouded by the knowledge that this was someone she should know.
“Um, Marina, this is Dax Piersall, Charles’s brother.”
Dax was already opening his mouth to ask a question when she turned to him. “Marina was in an accident a few years ago that caused her to forget some things. She doesn’t remember much of her childhood.”
“Charles’s brother?” Marina’s wide blue eyes filled with tears as she gripped Dax’s hands. “I didn’t know Charles had any family. I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t be.” Dax’s words were a whip that halted the flow of words midstream. “We hadn’t seen each other in years. We weren’t close.” He shot a glance at Jillian and an expression very near a sneer distorted his face. “Not like Charles and Jillian were close.”
“Stop it, Dax,” she said coolly. “You can snipe at me all you like, but at least try not to be a bore to the rest of the world.”
There was a flat, dead silence. Then Dax drew a breath and looked at Marina again, and again, Jillian noticed his expression softened. “I’m sorry you don’t remember me. We had some good times together when we were kids.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. Turning, she drew her husband forward. “This is my husband, Ben Bradford. Ben, Dax Piersall, who apparently is one of my childhood friends.”
Jillian’s brother-in-law thrust out his hand and gripped Dax’s, but she noticed Ben wasn’t smiling. Neither was Dax, and the similarities between the two men struck her suddenly. Both were quite tall, strong without being bulky, dark-eyed and black-haired—although Ben’s hair was a warmer shade, and there were traces of silver at his temples that Dax hadn’t acquired yet. Unless he colored them, she thought nastily.
Both men also exuded an aura of raw power, a force field of some kind of personality energy that other people recognized and deferred to instantly. Except for those who happened to be named Jillian Kerr.
Ben stepped back from the handshake, clearly dismissing Dax. “You’ll have to excuse us,” he said to Jillian. “I have to get Marina home. She needs to get out of this heat and rest.”
Marina rolled her eyes. “‘Rest,’ he says. The baby will be screaming for another feeding by the time I get home. Oh, yeah, I’ll get plenty of rest.”
Ben took her hand, grinning now. “We’ll see you later,” he said to Jill.
“I’m leaving now,” she said, seizing the chance to get away from Dax’s presence. “I’ll walk with you.”
But Dax snagged her hand before she could get away, tightening his fingers around hers until it hurt when she tried to pull free. “You can’t leave yet. We have some reminiscing to do.”
“Let her go,” said Ben, stepping forward, his jaw jutting aggressively.
“It’s okay, Ben,” Jillian said hastily. “Dax and I do have some things to discuss.” Her heart had done a back flip at the first touch of his firm, warm skin against hers, and her body quickened in anticipation. She might hate him, but he still had the power to move her physically.
Trying not to show it, she tested his grip, but he still didn’t let her go. She didn’t want to be touching him, and he knew it. But she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She might as well show him right off that she was capable of giving as good as she got, she decided with perverse satisfaction.
Stepping close, she pressed her body against him, sliding her free hand up his chest to toy with his tie. Even though she had braced herself for the contact, she had to close her eyes to hide the impact of awareness his hard body provoked.
His eyes widened fractionally. Then they narrowed and his hand loosened around hers. He slipped one arm around her in a familiar manner, his hand resting on the swell of her hip, fingers spread wide to hold her firmly against him. The electric sizzle that surged through her at the contact nearly wiped her mind clean.
Concentrating, she forced herself to ignore the small explosions of arousal going off in her system, gathering her words and her wits. “Among the things we need to talk about is Piersall Industries—now that we’re the primary stockholders in the company. You two go on.”
She never took her gaze from Dax’s as she spoke, and though he hid any trace of surprise, she noted the shock in his eyes when she mentioned the business. So he hadn’t known Charles had willed her all of his stock in Piersall. But then, she’d only learned about it this morning, so she’d hoped he hadn’t heard yet.
She sensed the hesitation in her sister, knew Ben was reluctant to leave her alone with Dax. She also knew Ben’s temper. And the protective streak that was a mile wide. If she didn’t get rid of him, there were liable to be two men throwing punches in a minute. So she kept the frozen smile in place, waiting until, from the corner of her vision, she saw them turn and start away again.
As soon as they did, she stepped away from Dax, and to her surprise, he let her go. It was a good thing, too. Every inch of her that had been plastered against him was throbbing and she could barely think.
“You leave my sister out of this,” she said to him in a fierce tone.
“She really doesn’t remember me, does she?”
“She doesn’t remember anything from before her accident,” Jillian said. “Lucky girl. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat.” Before he could speak again, she went on. “Really, Dax, you should have let me know you were coming. I’d have arranged a little party if I’d known. Invited every other loser in town.”
“You’ve changed,” he said. “The old Jillian was a sweetheart, not a sidewinder.”
She hated the way he was looking her over, like she was one of the Arabian mares his family had owned when they were growing up. “Of course I’ve changed,” she said briskly, impersonally. She’d die before she’d acknowledge the zing of hurt that verbal arrow produced. “I’m a grown woman with a business and a life to manage.”
“Kids’ Place.”
Her shock had to show, and the uneasiness telling her there was trouble ahead flared even higher. “How do you know about my store? I thought you said you just came to town.”
He smiled, and the deadly anger in his eyes did make her step back this time. “I made it my business to know everything there is to know about you, honey-bunch.”
“Not everything, since you apparently didn’t know about the stock.”
“Jill!” A man’s voice called to her and she turned, concentrating on forcing a warm smile into place.
“How are you, honey?” Roger Wingerd came toward her and briefly embraced her before drawing back. “I’m going to miss Charles. The Lion’s Club’s fund-raising committee was his baby. Nobody else can come close to following in his footsteps.”
She nodded, her throat tight as an image of Charles, wearing an apron and flipping pancakes at the annual breakfast, popped up. “I know.”
Beside her, Dax stirred restively, then thrust his hand forward. “Dax Piersall.”
Roger’s eyes widened as he returned the handshake. “Roger Wingerd.”
“Roger is the Chief Financial Officer at Piersall,” Jillian told Dax. “He and Charles have worked together for almost seven years. Roger probably knew him better than anyone but Alma.” Better than you, was the unspoken message.
Roger appeared oblivious to the tension in the air. “Sorry about your loss. Charles was one of a kind.”