SCANDAL BETWEEN THE SHEETS Read online

  Jasmine knew that one word from her and Evelyn and her daughters would be history. And as much as they weren't her favorite people, she didn't want to think of them being put out on the streets. Without her father's name and money, the three women would be like fish out of water. So the majority of the time Jasmine never bothered to tell him how Evelyn and her daughters continued to mistreat her. Instead, she tried to make the best of the situation and only went to visit them once a week on Sundays for dinner.

  Jasmine smiled when she thought about her mother and what a warm, loving individual she had been. After her mother's death, there had been Aunt Rena, her mother's sister who had always been there for her until she had died the summer Jasmine turned twenty-one. It was that summer when Aunt Rena had given her a box containing her mother's personal belongings. They were items that Jasmine's father had given Aunt Rena for safekeeping. Evidently, James Carmody had known that if Evelyn ever got her hands on any of it, she would have given them to her daughters instead.

  Jasmine had appreciated her father's thoughtfulness in looking out for her that way and in protecting the precious gifts her mother had wanted her to have. Most of the items had been jewelry that had been passed down through at least four generations—rare, expensive jewelry.

  The piece that had caught Jasmine's heart more than anything had been the beautiful gold-domed embossed locket she always remembered her mother wearing. From the day her aunt Rena had given it to her, the locket had been a constant companion around her neck. She never took it off and it served as a reminder of a time when she had been deeply loved by both of her parents.

  Automatically, she reached for it, where it usually rested between her breasts and suddenly went still when she discovered it wasn't there. Frantically, she went to the laundry hamper to pull out the jogging outfit she'd been wearing tonight, in hopes the locket may have slipped from around her neck and fallen inside her clothes. She had gotten the clasp on the locket repaired just last year.

  When Jasmine couldn't find it in the house she then slipped on a bathrobe and went outside to retrace her steps to her car, as well as going through every inch of her vehicle. She still found nothing. Jasmine knew the only other place it could possibly be was somewhere on Wesley Brooks's property. She became distraught at the possibility that it could have fallen in his trash while she'd been going through it.

  Reentering her house, Jasmine slumped back against the door as tears filled her eyes. That locket meant everything to her and now it was gone. If it were on Wesley Brooks's property, how would she get it back? If he thought his property was open to trespassers after what happened tonight, chances were he would take precautions and lock the security gates the next time he was out.

  And what if he found her locket? Would he think that perhaps it belonged to one of his lady friends and assume that no homeless person could own anything of such value?

  Crossing the room, Jasmine slumped down in a chair wondering what in the world she was going to do? The last thing she wanted was to encounter the likes of Wesley Brooks again, but now it appeared that she had no choice.

  * * *

  The next day Wesley stood on his terrace and inhaled the fresh morning air with a cup of coffee in one hand and the locket he had found the night before in the other. He frowned as he carefully studied the piece of jewelry. He wasn't an expert but he'd bet anything the item was worth a fortune. As he took a sip of coffee he knew there was only one way to find out. Bruce Crawford.

  He and Bruce had met a few years ago and the man's expertise in unique custom jewelry sales and designs was well known. Wesley had a feeling the piece of jewelry he was looking at was a very rare piece. He had pondered why a homeless person would have such a piece of jewelry in their possession without exchanging it for money to buy food for most of the night. Then he had opened the locket and found his answer when he saw that the picture inside bore a striking likeness to the destitute woman who had been going through his garbage. He had quickly surmised that the woman in the locket was the young woman's mother and she had kept the locket for sentimental reasons. He couldn't help but admire her for making such a sacrifice and was determined to see that the locket was returned to her.

  He shook his head, not understanding his need to see the woman again and to make sure that she was all right. The shadows beneath his eyes indicated he'd spent a sleepless night thinking about her. It had been a long time since any woman had made him lose sleep. But there had been something about her, something he couldn't put his finger on that had appealed to him on an emotional level. He couldn't push from his mind the memory of the smile that had touched her lips when he'd offered her food, and couldn't help wondering what had brought her to such a poverty-stricken state.

  Hearing the telephone ring, Wesley went back inside and, after placing his coffee cup on the counter picked up the phone. "Yes?"

  "You haven't forgotten about the card game tomorrow night, have you?"

  Wesley chuckled upon hearing the sound of Ian Danforth's voice. Ian was Abraham Danforth's oldest son, and since Abraham and Harold Danforth were brothers, Ian was also Jake's cousin. When Abraham had declared his candidacy for the senate, Ian took over the reins of the family company, Danforth and Danforth. Since Ian had been in charge of things, he had significantly increased the company's profits by creating a coffee import business. Ian was also a silent but equal partner with his younger brother Adam and his cousin Jake in a very successful joint venture—Danforth & Danforth's chain of upscale coffeehouses.

  "No, I haven't forgotten. Have you talked to Jake and the others?"

  "Yes and even Dad mentioned he would be stopping by."

  Wesley raised a dark brow. In all the years that he and the Danforth males had been playing cards together, Abraham Danforth had never put in an appearance. On the other hand, Harold would drop by occasionally to join the game.

  Ian must have read his thoughts because at that moment he said, "Surprised the hell out of me, too. But then I guess running for the senate means you have to start playing the role of devoted father," Ian said somewhat bitterly.

  Wesley knew that all of Abraham's children—Ian, Adam, Reid, Marcus and Kimberly—had nothing but unhappy memories of a strict and cheerless childhood that had mainly been spent at boarding schools after their mother had died. They had spent most of their holidays with their uncle Harold, who became a father figure to them, and the only reason they had agreed to rally to support their father in his bid for the senate was because Harold, who they all adored, had asked them to.

  Because Wesley had also lived in Harold and Miranda's home, he and Abraham's five children, as well as Harold and Miranda's four—Jake, Tobias, Imogene and Victoria—had grown up close and fiercely loyal to each other.

  Wesley then thought about Victoria, Harold and Miranda's youngest daughter. Five years ago at the age of seventeen she had been reported missing. Although the Danforths had never given up the search to find her, the police had closed the case on her disappearance.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night. Come ready to lose your money," Wesley said.

  "Like hell I will," Ian said laughing as they ended their conversation.

  Wesley hung up the phone smiling. His smile faded when he noticed that he was still holding the locket. A part of him would not be satisfied until he returned it to its owner.

  * * *

  Veronica Strongman watched as Jasmine paced back and forth in her living room, obviously clearly agitated. "Walking a hole in the floor won't help, Jazz," Ronnie decided to say moments later when Jasmine continued her pacing.

  Jasmine stopped and met Ronnie's gaze. "I want that big break, Ronnie, and I believe the Danforths will give it to me. Think of everything that has happened since Abraham Danforth kicked off his campaign—the corpse of a young woman was discovered during renovations at the Danforth family mansion, as well as me finding out that Jacob Danforth had a love child. But so far neither has turned into the earth-shattering story that I'm lo
oking for. Then I hear about Abraham Danforth's computer getting repaired, hoping to gather something from that, I still come up with nothing."

  Jasmine slumped down on the sofa. "And then to top things off, I've lost the most precious thing I've ever owned. That locket means everything to me and I want it back."

  Ronnie nodded. "Chances are it's somewhere on Wesley Brooks's property and he hasn't seen it yet."

  Jasmine raised hopeful eyes to her friend. "You think so?"

  "Yes, and all you have to do is find out the next time he won't be home."

  Jasmine sighed deeply. "What if he locks his gate this time?"

  Ronnie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Chances are he won't. I suggest that we figure out the times he won't be at home, with a little more accuracy than before, then go back and search the grounds for it. I'll even help you."

  Jasmine's face lit into a smile, the first since she had gone to her father's house for dinner earlier that day. "Thanks, Ronnie. I won't be able to get a good night's sleep until my locket is back around my neck where it belongs."

  * * *

  Two

  « ^ »

  Wesley tossed aside the papers he had been reading when the buzzer sounded on his desk. He quickly picked up the phone. "Yes, Melinda, what is it?"

  "Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Brooks, but you asked that I put Bruce Crawford through the minute he called."

  Wesley sat up straight in his chair. He had spoken with Crawford only yesterday. Was it too much to hope that he had gotten a lead already? "Thanks, Melinda, please put him through." He took a long swallow of coffee while he waited for his secretary to make the connection.

  "Bruce?" he said, when the man's booming voice came on the line. "You're calling back already?"

  "Yes, and next time give me something harder to do. What you wanted was a piece of cake. I knew it the moment I saw that locket."

  Relief coursed through Wesley making him grin. "I'll remember that the next time. So what did you find out?"

  "Basically just what I told you yesterday. That locket is an heirloom dated back to the early eighteen hundreds, pure gold. The style is…"

  Wesley wasn't interested in the style of the locket. He wanted to know anything Bruce could tell him about the owner. "What about the person who owns the locket?" he interrupted by asking. "Could you find out anything about her?"

  Bruce chuckled. "As a matter of fact, yes. I noticed the clasp had been replaced. There are a limited number of jewelers who would work on a piece this valuable. It seems that same locket was taken to a jeweler for repair of the clasp about a year ago. Luckily the man who owns the repair shop still had the paperwork. The owner of the locket is a woman by the name of Jasmine Carmody."

  Wesley frowned, wondering where had he heard that name before. "Jasmine Carmody?"

  "Yes, Jasmine Carmody, and I have her address if you need it."

  Wesley lifted a brow. "She has an address?"

  Bruce chuckled again. "Of course she has an address. She has to live someplace, doesn't she?"

  Not necessarily, Wesley started to say since most homeless people didn't reside in any one place. But instead he said. "Yes, I suppose. So what address do you have for her?"

  Again Wesley was taken aback when Bruce rattled off Jasmine Carmody's address. It belonged to a very upscale apartment complex off Abercorn Street

  in downtown Savannah. "Are you sure this is the correct address?"

  "That's the address indicated on the work-order invoice. I was able to get a copy of it and I'm looking at it as we speak. There's even a home telephone number, as well as a business number and mobile number."

  Wesley began rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly feeling tension building there. None of what Bruce was telling him made any sense. Why would a homeless person be living in an upscale apartment and have home, business and mobile phones? "Would you give me those numbers, please?"

  Without asking any questions, Bruce provided him with the information. "Anything else you want to know, Wes?"

  This is one that I'll have to figure out on my own, Wesley thought. "No, that's about it. I appreciate all the information you were able to find out. I owe you one, Bruce." A few minutes later, he and the other man ended their conversation.

  Wesley leaned back in his chair and studied the address and the phone numbers he had written down. It seemed that his mystery lady was becoming more mysterious by the minute. It also seemed his mystery lady was not homeless.

  Carmody? Now where had he heard that last name before? He remembered attending a charity benefit once and meeting a Dr. James Carmody, a well-known orthopedic surgeon in the city. He also remembered meeting the man's wife and two daughters. Mrs. Carmody had all but shoved her daughters in Wesley's face, letting him know the two young women were ripe for marriage if he was interested.

  He hadn't been interested then and he wasn't interested now. Marriage was definitely the last thing on his mind, although he had to admit that Jake seemed pretty damn happy with it. It still amazed him that his best friend could so easily slip into the role of father and husband like he was made for it.

  Thinking of his friend made Wesley recall that Jake had also been in attendance at the charity benefit that night. Jake was better at remembering the names of people than he was, so maybe he ought to run the name by Jake and…

  Something suddenly clicked in Wesley's mind: a conversation he'd had with Jake and Larissa just a few weeks ago when they'd told him about a newspaper reporter who had been the one to find out about Jake being the father of Larissa's three-year-old son, Peter. The reporter had threatened to blow the story wide open. Since Jake hadn't known he had a son, Larissa had done the smart thing in going straight to Jake before he had a chance to read it in the newspapers.

  Jake had immediately done the honorable thing and asked Larissa to marry him. She'd been reluctant at first, but then she had eventually agreed that it was in the best interest of their son for her and Jake to marry. What might have begun as a marriage of convenience between Jake and Larissa was now a marriage of love. There was no doubt in Wesley's mind that his best friend was deeply in love with his wife.

  Again, Wesley racked his brain as to where he had heard the name Jasmine Carmody before. He seemed to remember that the reporter who had dug into Jake and Larissa's past had been named Jasmine something.

  Deciding to solve the puzzle once and for all, he picked up the phone and placed a call to Jake. Less than ten minutes after talking to Jake, Wesley was slamming the phone down in anger. The woman who'd had the nerve to trespass on his property and rummage through his garbage was not a homeless person. In fact she was a long way from being penniless and probably didn't know the meaning of being destitute. But worst of all was the knowledge that Jasmine Carmody was a reporter and he outright despised reporters. She had played on his kindness and had made a complete fool out of him.

  He stood and crossed the room to the window and gazed out, trying to calm his anger. No matter how many times he saw it, he thought Savannah's riverfront was breathtaking. What had once been a row of cotton warehouses was now a plaza that consisted of shops, restaurants and offices. He had been smart enough to know the value of investing in waterfront property for both his business and personal use.

  His thoughts shifted back to Jasmine Carmody. The woman had actually been going through his garbage looking for something she could use in her campaign to discredit Abraham Danforth. In his opinion that made her nothing more than a self-serving piranha of a reporter.

  She didn't care who she hurt as long as she got her story, and from what he'd seen the other night, it appeared she would go to any lengths to get it. Just what had she hoped to find? Even if he had something he wanted kept confidential, did she think he would have been stupid enough to toss it in the garbage?

  He couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back to his college days and thinking of Caroline Perry. Caroline was a journalism student he had dated while a member of t
he Georgia Tech football team. He had really cared for her and would even go so far as to say he had actually loved her. But he had found out too late that love had been the farthest thing from Caroline's mind and all she had wanted from him was a story. She'd been interested only in breaking a story on steroid use by the football team. He had been devastated when he learned she'd only been using him. She had taken the information that he had shared with her in strict confidence and had written an article for the school newspaper. In the end, he had gotten kicked off the football team and was shunned by his teammates. Since then, he'd never trusted another reporter, and as far as women were concerned, he would love them and leave them. He would never give his heart to another woman again.

  He walked back to his desk. Jasmine Carmody had made a grave mistake. She would find out the hard way that no one, and he meant no one, made a fool of Wesley Brooks.

  * * *

  Talk about close calls again, Jasmine thought as she let herself into her apartment. She and Ronnie had gone over to Wesley Brooks's home during their lunch hour, only to find he had locked the gate.

  Determined to get onto his property anyway, she had attempted to climb the massive wrought-iron gate only to hear Ronnie's warning moments later that someone was coming. She had barely made it back down safely to the ground, and she and Ronnie had hightailed it to the nearest bushes, when Wesley Brooks had pulled up in his vintage red Corvette. How were they to know that he would be coming home for lunch? And then when he had leaned out of the vehicle to punch in the numbers to open his security gate, he had glanced around as if he had known she was out there somewhere hiding, which was ridiculous. There was no way he could have known since like the last time, she had parked her car out of sight.

  Jasmine tossed her purse on the sofa and went into the kitchen feeling totally frustrated. She and Ronnie had come pretty close to being discovered. Millionaire or no millionaire, why couldn't the man have a schedule that they could figure out? He had a tendency to appear when you least expected him.