His Brother's Fiancee. Jasmine Cresswell
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about one disaster at a time, and right now, her antagonistic relationship with Jordan Chambers shouldn’t even be registering on her personal disaster scale. She had bigger problems to worry about.
She was concentrating so hard on ignoring Jordan that she jumped when Jeff Greiff spoke. “You and Michael need to come up with a better explanation for the breakup than being incompatible,” the campaign manager said. “When a celebrity couple splits and tries to claim incompatibility, the media just invent a more interesting story. Gone are the days when keeping a discreet silence ensures that gossip dies down faster. Nowadays, silence is an open invitation to scandal. Mega scandal.”
Jeff puffed out his cheeks, looking self-important and vaguely ridiculous to Emily’s jaundiced eyes. “You can’t afford scandal right now, Michael,” he went on. “Quite apart from the disastrous effect on our fund-raising potential, you’re just starting to get some name recognition with the voters. Negative publicity could sink your positive ratings to a point where they can’t be salvaged. We can’t afford any negative press right now.” He scowled at Emily. “The timing for this breakup really sucks, you know.”
Emily almost apologized, then stopped herself just in time. Michael’s campaign problems were not of her making and she had zero sympathy for his plight. In fact, given the weakness of character he’d revealed today, a dose of negative publicity might not be a bad thing. The people of Texas deserved better than a man who broke promises and then tried to weasel out of the consequences.
She finally brought herself to look squarely at her former fiancé, letting him see her scorn. He stared back at her somewhat helplessly, then ran his hand through his thick, glossy hair, looking a great deal more worried now than he had when he announced the ending of their engagement. “This is a hell of a mess,” he said, handsome jaw clenched.
“You could certainly say that,” Emily agreed. “Personally, I suggest we stop tossing around blame and make up our minds what we’re going to say to the 350 people who are expecting to watch us get married tomorrow.”
Michael sucked in a nervous gulp of air, then scowled. “My God, this is a public relations nightmare.”
“You should have thought of that earlier, I guess.”
“I did think about it. But I didn’t have much choice—“ He scowled. “Damn! Why couldn’t all this have come to light weeks ago? There would be no story for any reporters to run with if it weren’t for the fact that the wedding’s only hours away.”
“You’re right. It’s the wedding ceremony itself that’s the real problem.” Jeff Greiff paced nervously. “The guest list includes three U.S. senators and the secretary of defense—”
“Dear lord,” Amelia whispered, fanning herself. The poor woman looked truly ill. “What in the world are we going to do? What shall we say?”
“The out-of-town guests are all due at the dinner tonight, so there’s no way to head them off,” Jeff said with gloomy relish. “They’ll have left Washington already. What kind of spin can we put on this? My God, Michael, if you’d set out to piss off the movers and shakers who’ve supported your candidacy for governor, you couldn’t have done a better job.”
Amelia stopped glaring at Emily long enough to direct an icy glance at her son’s campaign manager. “This horrible situation isn’t improved by using coarse language, Jeff.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Jeff turned away, rolling his eyes once he was out of Amelia’s line of vision.
Raelene broke into a fresh burst of tears. “I don’t care about the senators or any of your other fancy guests,” she wailed. “All I care about is my daughter. I don’t understand, Emmie. You looked so beautiful when we went for the final fitting on your wedding dress yesterday. You seemed so calm, so sure of yourself….”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Emily interrupted, unable to bear any more reminders of how naively content she’d been a mere twenty-four hours earlier. “I guess Michael and I discovered we weren’t in love—”
“Now, now, muffin, you know we aren’t going to believe that load of garbage.” Her father took her hand, patting it as much to comfort himself as to reassure her. “We’re not angry with you, Emmie, we just want to understand. At breakfast you gave us no hint—none!—that you were having second thoughts. What happened between breakfast and lunch to make you change your mind?”
Emily opened her mouth, then shut it again, unable to think of a single intelligent thing to say. She wanted to help Mr. Chambers salvage his business partnership with her dad, but she realized that might be impossible. Her parents simply knew her too well to believe the story Michael was trying to pass off on them.
“I know it’s out of character for me to do something like this,” she said in a final attempt to make the incredible sound reasonable. “The truth is—”
“The truth is that you and I need to talk,” Jordan interrupted. “Now, Emily, before you say anything more.”
“Excuse me?” Emily stared at him, sufficiently astonished to forget that looking at Jordan invariably produced an absurd and troublesome rush of heat. Their eyes met and, on cue, her cheeks flamed, but for once she ignored the sensation. “I can’t think of a single thing that you and I might need to discuss, Jordan.”
“You’re not handling this the right way,” he responded coolly. “Trust me, Emily, we need to talk.”
She glared at him. “Have you ever noticed that it’s only people who are completely untrustworthy who tell you to trust them?”
Jordan flashed her a brief, hard smile. “Darling, this isn’t going to get us anywhere, you know. We need to discuss the situation privately. Just the two of us.”
He’d called her darling. Emily’s stomach performed a back flip. She was sufficiently stupefied by Jordan’s endearment that she forgot to reply, just stared at him with her mouth hanging open. What in the world was going on? This was the man she despised, the man who had never yet spent ten minutes in her company without saying something that provoked an argument. Was the entire Chambers family going mad?
If they weren’t collectively nuts, perhaps she was. Maybe this crazy cancellation of the wedding was a nightmare, and she would wake up any second. Surreptitiously, Emily gave her arm a hard pinch and waited in hope.
Unfortunately, it seemed that she wasn’t dreaming. Jordan walked across the room and touched his finger to her chin, gently closing her mouth. She opened it again to speak, but Jordan closed it once more, this time with considerable firmness.
“Not here, dearest.”
First darling, and now dearest. She’d definitely slipped down a rabbit hole into Wonderland, Emily decided.
Jordan turned to the assembled company. From their silence, Emily deduced they were all as bewildered as she was. “Excuse us,” he said. “Give us fifteen minutes, will you?”
He didn’t wait for a response, just put his hand under Emily’s elbow and propelled her from the crowded family room, shutting the door on the explosion of questions that followed their exit.
“They’ll be hot on our tail within minutes,” he said as soon as they were in the hall. “We’ll have to use the library. That’s the only room with a lock on the door.”
“I have no intention of going anywhere with you, least of all into a room where we’re locked in—”
Jordan swung her up into his arms, carried her into the library, and set her down on her feet, turning the key in the door behind them. “Sorry about that,” he said, strolling over to the fireplace and standing with one foot resting on the old-fashioned fender, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. “I’m not trying to lock you in, Em, I’m trying to keep everyone else out while we talk.”
Emily tugged at the linen jacket of her suit, her breathing shallow and her heart thudding.