His Brother's Fiancee. Jasmine Cresswell

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His Brother's Fiancee - Jasmine Cresswell


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first, even though his back was toward the door.

       “Emily’s here,” he said, half turning. He spoke quietly, but his cool tones penetrated the hullabaloo, and the babble of exasperated voices stopped for a few seconds while everyone swiveled around to stare at her. She’d noticed before that Jordan rarely needed to raise his voice in order to make his presence felt, and she wondered why his family seemed unaware of the fact that on the rare occasions when he wanted to, Jordan could dominate any situation he found himself in.

       Amelia Chambers spoke first, her voice acid with sarcasm. “Well, it’s the vanishing bride! How good of you to put in an appearance. Finally. I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies.”

       Emily flushed. “I had an appointment on the far side of town, Mrs. Chambers. I’m sorry to have kept everyone waiting.”

       Amelia was standing by the fireplace, her hand resting on the mantelpiece. At Emily’s reply, she drew herself up to her full, imposing five feet nine inches and squinted down her narrow, patrician nose, her nostrils flaring with temper.

       “You had an appointment across town?” She sounded incredulous, as if Emily had admitted to taking off for a brief trip to the planet Mars.

       “It was a long-standing commitment. A business appointment.”

       “Oh, well, that explains everything. I appreciate your finding time to squeeze us into your busy schedule.” Amelia rarely lost her temper, but when she did, her sarcasm could corrode steel. “Perhaps, now that you’re here, you’d be kind enough to give us some clue as to why you’ve chosen to ruin my son’s life?”

       “You’ve no call to talk to my daughter in that nasty tone of voice!” Raelene Sutton, plump and petite, sprang to her daughter’s defense like a sparring bantam hen, giving Emily no chance to speak for herself. “If she’s called off her engagement to your son, you can be sure she has a good reason for it.”

       “Yes, and I’d like to know what that reason is,” Sam Sutton said fiercely. “What did your son do to my little girl that she doesn’t want to marry him anymore?”

       Sam was a good six inches shorter than Michael, but that didn’t deter him from confronting his daughter’s former fiancé. Hands on hips, lower lip thrust out, he looked as if he’d as soon punch Michael’s nose as listen to an explanation.

       Michael stepped back, alarmed. “I didn’t do anything to your daughter!” he protested, sounding aggrieved. “Emily, tell everyone the truth! Explain to your parents that you called off our engagement because we were incompatible. You have to convince them you’re okay with this! Nobody seems to believe me.”

       Emily sent him an astonished glance, although she didn’t really look at him. Couldn’t look at him and maintain any pretense of being in control. Was this how Michael had resolved the dilemma of explaining that he’d called off their wedding? By blaming it all on her? If she hadn’t felt so numb—so bludgeoned—she thought she might have been angry.

       How little Michael understood her, she reflected wearily. After three months as her fiancé, he still didn’t recognize that she was a conformist to the core of her being. But unlike Michael, her parents knew her well enough to realize she would never have suggested canceling the wedding at this late date except in the most dire of circumstances. No wonder they were worried sick, imagining what those dire circumstances could be.

       When she didn’t immediately speak up, Michael came and stood at her side, his confident manner suggesting that he harbored no real doubt that she’d go along with his version of events. He obviously assumed she was still such a captive of his charm that she would meekly accept whatever story he cooked up, Emily thought, seething at his attitude. Had she really been such a wimp in their relationship? Was it only a few hours earlier that she had found his arrogance appealing?

       “Tell everyone that you want to call off the wedding, Emily. Help me out here.” Michael flashed one of his cajoling smiles, reminiscent of Bruce Willis at his most endearing. Smiles she had previously considered irresistible and now found repellant. “Please tell them that you don’t want to go through with this charade, honey. Tell them it’s a mutual decision.”

       Emily had new insights into Michael’s character now that she hadn’t enjoyed this morning, and she felt sure he hadn’t lied about their breakup in order to save her injured pride. He was laying the blame for their broken engagement on her doorstep simply because his jaunty confidence was a sham. Deep inside where it really counted, he was too gutless to stand up and take responsibility for a mess that was entirely his own creation.

       Despite her anger, if he wanted to pile all the blame on her, she didn’t really care. Nothing could avoid the humiliation that was building inexorably toward tomorrow’s climax, when 350 guests would gather for a wedding that wouldn’t happen. In the circumstances, did it matter how the guilt was apportioned? In fact, she could only agree with Michael about their incompatibility. Whatever the true reasons for his last-minute decision to call off the wedding, she probably ought to be grateful that he wanted out. After today’s events, there was no avoiding the conclusion that they were wildly unsuited to each other. It seemed inevitable that their marriage would have ended in crushing failure. Better that it never take place.

       Right now, though, it was difficult to feel gratitude, with Holt and Amelia Chambers looking so disgruntled and her parents looking so devastated. Still, she couldn’t give her parents false hope. The wedding was off and, since there was no way to change that, she needed to confirm that the break between her and Michael was beyond mending. There were business considerations at stake here, in addition to everything else. Holt Chambers and her father had signed a preliminary agreement to develop Laurel Acres, a major construction project in the hill country region north of San Antonio. If her marriage to Michael didn’t take place, that deal might be at risk. Her father had old-fashioned values and tried to do business only with people whom he respected. He might not want to continue in partnership with the Chamberses if he decided that Michael had treated her badly.

       Michael’s father wasn’t a warmhearted man, but he’d been as kind to her as his uptight nature permitted, and she knew he needed the projected partnership a great deal more than her father, whose canny judgment and hard work had made him a millionaire many times over. By contrast, since her engagement, she’d come to realize that the Chambers family was long on ancient lineage and seriously short of ready cash.

       Emily knew she had it within her power to wreak revenge on Michael simply by telling the truth. For a moment she was tempted, then her better nature won out. No point in punishing Holt Chambers because Michael had turned out to be a jerk.

       Her silence had already gone on way too long, and she spoke quickly, before her good intentions melted in the heat of disgust for Michael’s behavior. “A marriage between the two of us would never have worked,” she said woodenly. “We don’t love each other enough to make a go of our relationship. Under the circumstances, we decided to cancel the wedding ceremony tomorrow. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Very sorry.”

       She spoke to a spot angled somewhere between her parents’ concerned faces. Which, by an unfortunate fluke, brought her slap bang into visual contact with Jordan Chambers. He looked at her quizzically and she felt heat flare in the pit of her stomach. From the time of their disastrous encounter in Mary Christine Bernauer’s bedroom, Michael’s brother always produced that effect on her, and Emily intensely disliked the sensation.

       Cheeks burning, she dropped her gaze and stared fixedly at her shoes. Even though she could no longer see him, she knew instinctively that Jordan continued to look at her. She felt the touch of his gaze as a physical entity, unsettling, but compelling. His silent inspection continued and the heat in her cheeks spread through her body, blazing all the way to her toes.

       With a liberating sense of release, Emily realized there was no longer any reason for her to conceal her dislike of Michael’s brother. She jerked her head upward and sent him a gaze of fulminating fury. Here was a genuine blessing about her broken engagement, she thought grimly. At least she would never have to be polite to Jordan again.

      


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