SCANDAL BETWEEN THE SHEETS Read online

  The older man studied Wesley for a few moments then asked, "Is that all you had to talk to me about, Wes? For some reason I think there's more."

  Wesley smiled. Just like Harold, Abraham could read him like a book at times. "Yes, there is something else. A woman by the name of Jasmine Carmody. I'm sure you probably know her by now."

  Abraham chuckled as he nodded. "Ah, yes, Ms. Carmody. She is a very dedicated reporter who can be relentless in her interviews. Although I have to admit she gets rather intense at times, I know she is merely doing her job."

  Wesley knew Abraham had stated things as diplomatically as he could. "She mentioned to me today that she heard your computer had gotten sabotaged and wanted to question you about it. I just thought I'd let you know. I also wanted you to know that she was rummaging through my garbage last week looking for anything that I may have tossed out after repairing your computer. Since I see she's intent on getting into trouble, I've decided to keep a close eye on her."

  Abraham shrugged. "Although I'm as anxious as everyone else to know how Martha died, I have nothing to hide, Wes, so she can do all the digging that she wants." The older man then studied Wesley intently. "But I am concerned about you."

  Wesley raised a brow. "Me? Why?"

  Abraham studied Wesley for a few moments before speaking. "Because I know how you feel about female reporters and I don't want you to think every one of them is like that young woman you dated in college. I know what a difficult time that was for you. It's not always easy when a person's trust has been betrayed." He was quiet a moment and then added, "I often worry about you and Ian. The two of you have been hurt by women, and I don't want the two of you to let it ever stop you from experiencing true love and happiness."

  An hour after Abraham left, Wesley was still thinking about the older man's words. He couldn't speak for Ian, but as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as true love and happiness when it came to a woman.

  There wasn't any woman that he wanted to share his life with and he intended to keep it that way.

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  Jasmine stared at her car not believing what she saw. Of all things, she had a flat tire. She tried to remember what she had learned in that auto mechanics class she and Ronnie had taken a few years ago, and couldn't recall much of anything. And when she tried using her mobile phone to call for road service, she had discovered her phone battery was low and she couldn't make the call.

  She had just come from a press conference at Crofthaven. The coroner's report had ruled that Martha Jones, whose body had been identified in the attic last week, had died of a heart attack. It seemed that Martha had had a congenital heart condition and had run away from home several times in the past. From what the authorities had been able to piece together, after a heated argument with her overly protective mother, at the age of sixteen Martha had gone to the attic to hide out when she'd suffered a fatal heart attack. Since that part of the house was never used, Martha's body had gone undiscovered for three years.

  Jasmine sighed and glanced around. There weren't too many cars traveling by and those who'd passed hadn't slowed down to offer help. Thinking she would save time getting home, she had decided to use the two-lane stretch of road instead of the interstate to avoid rush-hour traffic. Now she didn't like the thought of being stranded.

  Maybe if she took a look at the tools she had in the trunk, she might recall how to change a tire. She went to the back of her car and began pulling out her jack and spare tire.

  When she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, she nervously glanced over her shoulder. She was alone on a practically deserted stretch of highway. Releasing the jack from her hand she gripped her key chain that also held her pepper spray.

  Ready to take aim if she had to, she turned quickly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was Wesley. She didn't think she could be happier to see him.

  "Need help?"

  She shook her head. "Yes, please. I've got a flat tire. Do you know how to change one?"

  He grinned. "Of course. If you need transportation for another interview, you can take my car and I'll take care of things here and bring your car to you later."

  She glanced at his elegant silver-gray Mercedes and thought his offer was more than generous. "No, I'm all through for today and was on my way home. I tried calling road service but my cell-phone battery is low."

  "No problem. I'll take over from here. If you'd like, you can go sit in my car and turn on the air conditioner. It's getting pretty hot out here." He couldn't help noticing how her blouse had become damp and was beginning to stick to her perfectly shaped breasts. Today she was wearing a pair of slacks so he couldn't see the gorgeous legs he'd thought about so often.

  "No, I'm fine. Besides, I need to watch what you're doing so I can learn what to do the next time."

  He met her gaze as he moved toward her trunk. "I hope there's not a next time." He meant it. He didn't like the idea of her being stranded on an isolated stretch of road with a flat tire. He would have come by sooner had he not been talking with Harold and Miranda Danforth.

  He'd considered them his unofficial adoptive parents for the past fourteen years. Miranda had been scolding him about looking too thin and not eating enough. He had decided to use the two-lane highway instead of the interstate due to rush-hour traffic and was glad that he had. He didn't want to think how long Jasmine might have been stranded had he not come by.

  "I hope there's not a next time, too, but I still want to watch," she said moving out of his way when he pulled out the jack and spare tire.

  A few moments later she regretted watching Wesley. She barely paid any attention to what he was doing. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She couldn't help noticing his powerful arms and broad shoulders and the way his slacks stretched tight across his muscular thighs as he removed the flat tire.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, he was done. "That about does it, but you should get this tire fixed sometime tomorrow."

  "I will and thanks for your help. What do I owe you?"

  "Nothing," he said, placing the flat tire in her trunk. "Just make sure you get this repaired tomorrow."

  Jasmine nodded, then remembered she'd been planning to cook spaghetti for dinner. Wesley was used to eating the microwave kind and she wondered if he would appreciate eating the real thing for once. She made a quick decision to find out.

  "I'm cooking spaghetti tonight. I know how much you like it and wondered if you'd like to join me?"

  "For dinner?" he asked, raising a brow as he closed down the trunk.

  "Yes, for dinner. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti and a salad."

  Wesley paused. He could think of no reason why he shouldn't join her for dinner other than the one nagging him. He didn't want spaghetti and a salad—he wanted her.

  "Yes, I'd like to join you for dinner. Thanks for the invitation."

  "Thanks for your help just now. Do you want to follow me home?"

  He glanced down at himself. He looked rumpled and felt sweaty. "I'd like to go home, shower and change first."

  "All right and I'll go on home and start dinner." A smile spread across her lips before she opened her car door.

  "I'll follow you."

  She lifted a brow. "Why? You fixed my tire."

  "Yes, but I still want to make sure you get home safely. On rare occasions, spares have been known to go flat, too."

  She nodded. "Should I expect you at my place in an hour or so?"

  The smile she gave him had hit him right in the groin. "Yes, that would be the right time."

  He began walking back to his car as she started the engine to her vehicle thinking that that shower he intended to take needed to be a cold one.

  * * *

  Wesley smelled the delicious aroma of spaghetti sauce the moment he walked into Jasmine's home.

  "I hope you're hungry since I made a huge pot," Jasmine said, closing the door behind
him.

  She tried to ignore how good he looked in a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt. She recalled the first time she had seen him in jeans—that night he had appeared out of the darkness while she'd been going through his trash. And then, like now, she thought he looked utterly sexy.

  "I've never known spaghetti to go to waste while I'm around," Wesley said in an amused voice, breaking into her thoughts.

  Jasmine couldn't help but smile. "Good. You can come straight to the kitchen where I have everything set up. I thought it would be nice to sit on my screened-in patio. Although I don't have a view of the Savannah River like you do, I have a view of a lake that I think is rather nice."

  "I'm sure it is." His smile widened when he walked into her kitchen. It was almost as large as his but definitely better equipped. He liked the way she had things set up, including the way several pots hung from a pot rack.

  "You can wash your hands in that bathroom across the hall while I get things ready on the patio."

  The cold shower hadn't done him any good, Wesley thought as he went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He couldn't get over how good she looked in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Like him, she had decided to dress comfortably for dinner. And yet the casual outfit still managed to turn him on.

  When he returned to the kitchen she was loading everything on a serving tray. "There's a wine rack around the corner in the area that separates the kitchen from the dining area. How about selecting us a bottle?"

  "Do you have a preference?" he asked.

  "No, whatever you'd like."

  He decided to select a red wine—one he knew was delicious with pasta. When he joined her on the patio, she had set the table and the spaghetti was served in a beautiful ceramic pasta platter. He smiled when he saw she had also baked a batch of garlic bread and he had a feeling it would taste as good as it looked.

  "Everything is ready, so sit down and help yourself."

  He did, however, he waited for her to serve herself and say grace before digging in. "Umm … this is delicious," he said moments later after taking his first forkful."

  "Thanks."

  "Who taught you how to cook?"

  "My aunt. I went to live with her for a while after my mom died. She loved to cook and together we would try out a lot of dishes."

  "How long did you live with her?"

  "Less than six months. My father loved my mother very much and he took her death extremely hard. He needed to go through that period of mourning alone. I think the only reason he remarried was because he thought he was doing me a favor."

  Although she didn't say anything else, Wesley knew from what Jasmine had shared with him the other night that her father had unknowingly done her a disservice instead of a favor. It didn't take much for him to gather that the woman her father had married was the stepmother from hell.

  "Is your aunt still living?"

  Jasmine shook her head. "No, she died five years ago."

  The sadness in her voice touched him. "Other than your father, do you have any other family?"

  "No, he was an only child and my mother had that one sister who never had any children of her own," she said thinking of her aunt Rena.

  Wesley said nothing for a moment, and then said. "Your mother was a very beautiful woman."

  She met his gaze, surprised. "How do you know?"

  "The locket."

  She didn't say anything for a long moment as she looked into his hazel eyes. She had almost forgotten about the locket and that he still had it. "Yes, she was beautiful."

  "You favor her."

  Jasmine's breath caught as their gazes held. For a moment she wasn't sure how to respond. His compliment had caught her off guard.

  "Thank you," she finally said softly.

  Wesley and Jasmine enjoyed the rest of their meal while discussing various topics, steering clear of Abraham Danforth and the press conference he'd held earlier that day. However, they did talk about the rumor that had been going around for years that Crofthaven was haunted.

  Wesley smiled as he finished off the last of his spaghetti. "I've spent a number of nights at Crofthaven and have never seen this ghost people claim is there. However, Reid and Jake swear it exists."

  Jasmine lifted a brow. "Reid? That's Abraham's second oldest son, right? The one who's getting married in a few months."

  "Yes. Reid and Tina Morgan are getting married and everyone is excited about it." He took a sip of his wine before continuing. "Dinner was wonderful and I appreciate the invitation."

  "I'm glad you could join me. And I really appreciate your help in changing that tire. I'm glad you came along when you did. I was beginning to get a little nervous on that road alone." She then took a glance at the darkening sky. "I think we might get a thunderstorm tonight."

  Wesley stood. "Then I'd better help you with dishes so I can be on my way."

  "You don't have to help with dishes, Wesley."

  He chuckled. "Hey, no arguing. It's the least I can do after enjoying such a delicious meal."

  Jasmine laughed. "Okay, if you insist, but remember I told you that I could do them by myself."

  "I'll remember but I think four hands will be better than two."

  She washed and he dried while he told her about his Internet sales company and how it got started. He had capitalized on the contacts he had made in college, and she could tell the Danforths had been supportive. This explained his fierce loyalty to the Danforths and why he considered them as his family. In a way she understood because she was fiercely loyal to her father, as well.

  "Well, that about does it with the dishes," she said, putting the last one away. "If you'd like, I can prepare you a bowl of spaghetti to take with you since I have so much left."

  "Are you sure?"

  She smiled. "Yes, I'm positive. It won't take but a second."

  He leaned back against the counter as he watched her spoon a hefty portion of spaghetti into a large bowl and then wrapped it with clear cling wrap. She also wrapped up a few pieces of garlic bread. After bagging up both, she placed the bag in the middle of the table. It was then that they heard the raindrops beginning to fall and a quick glance out the window indicated the clouds had been much closer than they'd thought. The rain was already coming down fast and furious.

  "Maybe you should wait until the rain stops," she said. She walked over to the window and looked out. "It's a mess out there."

  "Then if you don't mind, I'll just wait a while."

  She turned around and met his gaze. "I don't mind," she said quietly. She shivered slightly either from the chill that had entered the room or from the way Wesley was looking at her.

  He saw her tremble and crossed the room. "You're shivering. Are you cold?"

  "A little."

  He reached out and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in those big powerful arms she had admired earlier when he'd been changing her tire. "This feel better?" he asked. The question had been whispered close to her ear and sent more shivers through her body. Shivers that he felt.

  "You're still shivering," he said softly. "Maybe I should light your fireplace to warm you up some."

  When he released her, Jasmine looked into his hazel eyes, tempted to tell him that her shivers had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and had everything to do with him.

  A fierce storm may have been raging outside but here, inside her kitchen, deep within her body, another storm was raging. This one was just as turbulent as the one outdoors. And it wasn't helping matters that he was looking at her like she was something he wanted to eat.

  "Lighting the fireplace isn't necessary," she said softly, barely able to get the words out.

  "Would you rather we sit in your living room on the sofa?" he asked, not taking his eyes from her as his fingertips grazed the smoothness of her arm.

  His touch was sending sensations escalating through her entire body and the only thing she could do was nod. Wesley removed his arm from around her shoulders and extended his
hand to her. She took it and they walked through the kitchen to the living room. He sat down on the sofa then pulled her down into his lap.

  She gasped in surprise and felt the heat of his gaze when she looked at him.

  "Relax and let me warm you," he said softly, snuggling her closer into his arms. She felt the moistness of his breath against her forehead.

  She sighed, deciding to give in and let him hold her while the rain beat down on the roof. Nothing was said between them as they sat listening to the sound of the thunderstorm and watching the occasional flash of lightning. Jasmine had never been afraid of storms, but for some reason, she appreciated the fact she was not alone—more so that Wesley was the one with her, holding her tight in his arms as if there was no other place he'd rather be.

  The room was quiet, except for the sound of the storm and their even breathing. Then she suddenly noticed Wesley's breathing wasn't even anymore. It was beginning to come out choppy and rough. She noted the change the exact moment she felt the hard bulge in his pants press against her bottom.

  A warm sensation slithered slowly up her spine and she shifted in his arms, lifted her face from his chest and looked at him. Their gazes locked, and slowly, lifting her mouth to his seemed the most natural thing to do.

  He met her halfway, capturing her mouth, stealing whatever breath she had and kissing her as deeply as anyone could be kissed. His tongue probed, coaxed, and delivered a sudden throbbing between her thighs.

  The kiss claimed everything within her—every thought, every sigh and every moan. Then it created greed, a need and a hunger for something she'd never had but desperately wanted. His tongue was hot, seductive, rapacious, pleasuring her senseless, growling with an urgency that could not be contained.

  "I love the way you taste," Wesley murmured, breaking the kiss long enough to lick her jaw, throat and lips. "I haven't forgotten it since that night."

  She hadn't forgotten his taste, either, she wanted to say but couldn't find her voice. Her pulse increased when he gently bit the flesh near her shoulder, softly branding her. He slipped his hand under her top to caress her breasts through the thin material of her bra and she let out a deep moan. She had never experienced anything like this. She inhaled deeply when he lifted her top and unsnapped the front closure of her bra, baring her breasts to his gaze.