The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene: Scandal Between the Sheets / The Boss Man's Fortune / Challenged by the Sheikh. Brenda Jackson
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sound and turned around. She swallowed a scream when her gaze collided with that of the playboy millionaire himself. The sight of him took her breath away and when he walked out of the shadows barefoot and wearing only his jeans, her gaze first locked on his bare chest before moving upward to his gorgeous hazel eyes. He was taller than she had imagined and very solid, all muscles and no fat. He had chestnut-colored skin, the kind that didn’t make you think of open fires, but stirring up a different kind of fire.
She had been caught red-handed in Wesley Brooks’s trash and the first thought that came to her mind was to run. But for some reason, she couldn’t move. She felt glued to the spot.
* * *
Wesley was shocked. What he thought was a “he” had turned out to be a “she.” He saw the panic in the woman’s eyes and knew she was about to take off running but he couldn’t let her go without first offering her something. A part of him wondered what had happened in her young life to leave her this destitute.
“Wait! Don’t go. I want to help.”
He watched her eyes widen and thought she had the most incredible dark brown eyes that he had ever seen on a woman. A scarf completely covered her head and here in the darkened corner of the yard where only the moonlight shone through, he could see that her features were just as incredible as her eyes. Her skin tone was the color of rich cocoa and she appeared to be no more than twenty-five; the same age he had been when he had made his first millions.
She was wearing what appeared to be a well-worn jogging suit and surprisingly, she smelled good. His practiced nostrils recognized the fragrance, one that had an alluring scent. This particular brand would normally be too costly for a penniless person’s taste. Evidently, she’d hit gold in someone’s garbage and had come upon a half-empty bottle of some woman’s expensive perfume.
He blinked, forcing his mind to concentrate on the situation at hand and not on the possibilities, since, as far as he was concerned, there weren’t any. “How old are you?” he asked quietly, not wanting to scare her and wanting to assure her that he meant her no harm, although she was trespassing on his property.
He watched as she took a step back and when she did so, he was able to see more of her and suddenly, he could barely breathe. There was something about her that pulled on his heartstrings deeper than before. There was no way she should have to resort to this type of life for herself.
“I’m twenty-six,” she finally said, regaining his absolute attention. “Why?”
“I just wanted to know. Here’s some money,” he said, offering the wad of cash he held in his hand. “This is probably about five hundred dollars. Take it and go get something to eat and keep the rest to take care of yourself,” he said, thinking she wasn’t doing such a bad job of that anyway. She managed to look a lot more decent than some other homeless women.
“And since you won’t find too many fast-food places open this late at night, if you’re real hungry I can fix you something to eat.”
He watched her lips twitch into a smile when she said, “A microwave spaghetti dinner?”
Wesley blinked, then comprehended what she had said and why she had said it. He couldn’t help throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. Evidently she had discovered that hitting his garbage cans had been a complete waste of her time. It was a known fact among his friends just how much he liked spaghetti. When he wasn’t dining at some elegant and expensive restaurant, the microwave dinners were pretty damn satisfying, as well as filling.
By the time he had brought his laughter under control he saw she had taken off, and the only thing he could see was a flash of her jogging suit as she sprinted down his driveway and slipped out of the decorative wrought iron gate. “Hey, stop! Wait! Don’t leave without taking the money!”
Too late, he thought, as he watched her fleeing back. Careful of his bare feet, he walked part of the way down his driveway to see what direction she had gone but didn’t see anything. It was as if she had totally disappeared. Feeling disgusted that he had scared her off before she had taken the money he’d offered, he was about to turn to go back inside the house when he happened to glance down. There was something lying on the concrete and glittering in the moonlight. Reaching down he picked it up and saw it was some sort of a locket the woman had evidently dropped. Clenching it firmly in the palm of his hand, Wesley went back into the house.
The moment Jasmine was inside her apartment she leaned against the door and tried to slow down her heart rate as she let out a deep sigh of relief. That had been close, too close, and the very thought that Wesley Brooks had assumed she was a homeless person was almost too much.
What was he doing home on a Saturday night?
Ronnie had tipped her off that Wesley Brooks had repaired Abraham Danforth’s computer rather recently, and Jasmine had decided to go through his garbage just in case he had tossed out anything of interest on Abraham. Abraham Danforth had announced his candidacy for senator a few months ago and since then she had been trying to get a breaking-newsworthy story. No one could be as squeaky clean as Abraham Danforth wanted everyone to believe he was, and if there was dirt to be found, she intended to be the one to find it. She desperately needed to break a big story if she wanted to advance her career as a newspaper reporter. By making a name for herself she could pursue bigger opportunities.
Wesley Brooks hadn’t had a clue why she had been going through his trash and she was grateful for that. Had he known she was a newspaper reporter, he could have charged her with trespassing among other things, especially since he had a sign posted on his property that clearly said, No Trespassing. She was glad she had parked her car around the corner, a good distance from his house. Although by the time she had reached her vehicle she had been out of breath, at least he hadn’t tried following her.
And to think he had offered her five hundred dollars! She shook her head, shocked. The playboy millionaire had a heart. A big heart. He had even offered to share his food with her, and Jasmine knew she had seen a side of Wesley Brooks that very few people saw. It appeared that when it came to the less fortunate, he had a caring spirit and a part of her couldn’t help but be touched by it.
She sighed, thinking she had really gotten desperate to be going through people’s garbage. With her inability to uncover dirt on Abraham, she had decided to delve into the personal lives of the second generation of Danforths to see what muck she could dig up on them, as well.
Last month, she thought she had just the story on Abraham Danforth’s nephew, Jacob Danforth. She had discovered that a woman, Larissa Neilson, had given birth to his baby two years ago. However, the woman had decided to tell Jacob the truth before he found out about his child by reading it in the papers. When Jacob had found out he had a son, he had quickly done the right thing by stepping in and marrying Larissa. As a result he had destroyed the opportunity for Jasmine to blow the story wide open. So now she wasn’t sure just what angle she wanted to use to get the most effect when she eventually wrote the story.
She crossed the room and stopped beside the telephone, tempted to call Ronnie and chew her out for giving her wrong information. Evidently, Mr. Brooks had changed his routine and decided to stay in tonight. But then Jasmine couldn’t discount the possibility that a female friend could have been waiting for him in bed. She wouldn’t put anything past someone who was as gorgeous as he was, and tonight, even with just the moonlight overhead, she had managed to get an eyeful.
Wesley Brooks was a good-looking man. She had seen his photographs a number of times but tonight was the first time she had seen him in the flesh, and, boy, what flesh it was.
She blushed, not believing where her thoughts had gone and decided, what the hell, she might as well get it out of her system, although she knew that would be impossible. The sight of him barefoot and wearing nothing but a pair of jeans would be permanently etched on her mind.
He was sexy as hell, powerfully built and had a body like male bodies were supposed to look. His shoulders were muscular, sleek, and his chest was broad, muscled with a patch of sparse dark hair that trailed all the way past the waistline of his jeans.
Instead