by Lori Foster
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here.”
She hooked her arm through Brand’s. “I have a strong need to be fair.”
“Understood.” They entered through the front of the house where two security guards checked names. These men, too, gave Brand curious looks, but Sahara’s smile never slipped and since she made it clear he was her guest, they ushered them in.
“How many people are here?” Brand asked. As Sahara had said, he saw men in suits, others in work-casual clothes, and a few wearing jeans and Polo shirts.
In his black pants and button-up, with the collar open, he fit right in. Clothes-wise, anyway.
“Probably a hundred or more,” Sahara said. When someone offered to take her wrap, she shook her head and instead draped it over an arm. “Douglas heats the garden area out back, and utilizes a game room downstairs. I assume anywhere we go, it’ll be this crowded.”
“So where do you want to go?” He didn’t like standing in the open, especially with Sahara turning heads.
“Come on.” Keeping her arm in his, oblivious to all the men watching her, Sahara propelled them forward, past several rooms, to a bar set up in a wide area where many couples danced to a live band. “Drink?”
Brand told the bartender, “Cola.”
Smiling, Sahara said to him, “Party pooper.” She took a glass of wine.
When a casually dressed man approached, Brand stiffened. The man paid no attention to him at all and went straight for Sahara, his face lit with an enormous grin. “You came! I’m so glad.” He clasped her bare upper arms and drew her into an embrace.
“Of course I did. I’m a woman of my word.” Sahara dodged his kiss by leaning into Brand. “Douglas, I’d like you to meet Brand Berry. Brand, this is District Attorney Douglas Grant.”
Douglas blinked as if someone had just materialized, proving he hadn’t even noticed Brand.
Brand slipped his left arm around Sahara, but extended his right hand. “Beautiful home you have.”
Shaking off his surprise, Douglas accepted the gesture with a firm but friendly grip. “Yes, thank you. Brand, is it?”
Brand nodded.
“You two are...together?”
Why the hell did he have to look so shocked? Brand grinned to hide his insult and said, “I’m doing my best.”
Leaning forward, Sahara confided, “His best is amazing.”
“I see. Well I...” He looked beyond Brand, frowned, then turned back again. “You like the house, huh? I prefer the Hamptons. We have a quaint little cottage there... Well, you know nothing is that small in the Hamptons, not in the best areas—”
Sahara chimed in with “Isn’t that your father’s property, Douglas?”
“Yes, well...” He cleared his throat with a frown. “I don’t get away often enough to bother buying my own. When I do find time for a vacation, I enjoy it there.” After that rambling explanation, he said, “Why don’t I show you around?”
Since Brand wouldn’t mind seeing the layout, he nodded. “All right.”
Before they could take two steps, Douglas added, “Sahara, I see Lisa looking for you. Stay and visit, and I’ll bring Brand right back to you.”
No, Brand didn’t like that idea at all. “I’d rather—”
“She’ll be fine. Though it’s been a while since she visited, Sahara already knows her way around. Isn’t that right, Sahara?”
“Yes, it’s been a good long while since I visited.” She sipped her wine. “I didn’t think to ever return.”
Douglas’s smile grew brittle. “I’m glad I could persuade you.”
“Curiosity,” she explained with a small shrug. “I want to hear all about your willingness to work with me.”
Presumably it was Lisa who suddenly embraced Sahara, saving Douglas from having to reply. The woman was already talking a mile a minute. Douglas’s wife? Brand wasn’t sure, but Sahara did seem to genuinely like her.
He resisted Douglas’s efforts to lead him away, and with an apology for interrupting Lisa, leaned in to say near Sahara’s ear, “Stay here, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Right here,” he emphasized, his voice still low, his gaze holding hers. “I don’t want to have to look for you.” In a place this packed, he’d have a hell of a time finding her.
She put a hand to his jaw, brushing her fingertips over his growing beard stubble, then went on tiptoe to whisper, “I’ll stay in this room, but watch Douglas. He’s a snake.”
Brand briefly put his mouth to hers. “You look so hot.” And with that, he turned and left with Douglas, pressing through the crowd.
This was going to be the fastest tour in history.
Or so he thought.
Douglas waxed on about every room until Brand was ready to abandon him over the excess of details. They were on the upper floors, going through an elegant library that, according to Douglas, held a bunch of first editions that amounted to quite a collection, when a stacked blonde joined them.
Wearing a short black sleeveless dress and heels as high as those Sahara favored, the woman brushed back her long loose hair. She was a little on the voluptuous side, but in all the right ways.
Brand hoped she was there to interrupt the tour.
Red lips smiled when she spotted Douglas, but then her gaze transferred to Brand. She looked him over from head to toe the same way a dog ogles a meaty bone. “Douglas,” she cooed, without looking away from Brand, “you’re needed in the garden.”
“Problem?” Douglas asked.
She shrugged a bare shoulder. “Some debate that only you can decide, apparently, but don’t worry, I’ll tend to your guest.”
Smiling, Douglas said low, “I just bet you will,” and then in a normal tone, “Brand, meet Chelsea Tuttle, daughter to my wife’s dearest friend and a member of one of the most influential families in the state. Chelsea is like a niece to us. We’re very close.”
Brand nodded, uninterested in family dynamics when he’d rather be with Sahara. “I should go.”
To Chelsea, Grant stressed with strange emphasis, “Brand is here with Sahara Silver.”
“Oh really?” Gray eyes widened with mock surprise. “Sahara is here?”
“Downstairs,” Brand said, wondering if everyone knew Sahara. “And since the tour is over, I believe I’ll join her.”
“Nonsense.” Chelsea latched onto his arm. “I’ll finish showing you around.” She dismissed Douglas with a glance. “Go tend to your party. I’ll handle this.”
As if he’d been ordered by the president, Douglas smiled and walked out.
Brand decided to follow. “Thank you, Chelsea, but I better get back.” He attempted to free his arm.
She held on, even leaning closer so that her perfume filled his head and her boobs rested against his biceps. “Sahara does hold a tight leash, I know, but surely she can manage without you for a few minutes more.”
Irony at its finest, since it was Chelsea who wouldn’t let go. “You know her well?”
“I hired her agency once, back when her brother ran things.” Her other hand brushed his thigh. “She was underfoot even then, making a nuisance of herself.”
“A nuisance?” Brand already disliked the woman. He stepped back, away from her wandering fingers. “If you really do know Sahara, you know that’s not true. Whatever she does, she does better than anyone else could do it.”
Chelsea leaned in again, and this time she more boldly caressed him. “Well, well, she has you smitten, doesn’t she?”
Brand laughed even as he took her wrist and removed her hand. “If you mean I think she’s amazing, then yes. Hell, she’s the smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
Chelsea blinked, at a loss for words. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. “Maybe there are things about her you don’t know.”
There was nothing he wanted to hear from Chelsea Tuttle. “And maybe you’re just jealous of her?” When she gasped, he added, “It’s understandable, but still unattractive.”
She was so surprised by the direct insult, he finally managed to free himself.
Unfortunately, as he headed out the door, she followed, and before he could make it down the stairs she’d plastered herself back to his side, determined to boldly grope him.
For some reason, that made him even more anxious to get to Sahara. He had a bad feeling about things. Concern spiking, he ignored Chelsea and lengthened his stride.
He needed to know Sahara wasn’t in danger. He needed to see her now.
* * *
SAHARA AND DOUGLAS’S SISTER, Lisa, whom she hadn’t seen in a year, moved to a quieter corner to speak. She remained in plain sight, just opposite of the busy bar. Still, she watched for Brand. He was so protective that she wouldn’t be surprised to see him back in five minutes.
“You’re smiling,” Lisa said. “Does the happiness have anything to do with that godlike hunk you brought along?”
Odd how the sister could be so nice, and the brother be such scum. Sahara let her smile widen. “It has everything to do with him.”
“Are we getting serious?”
“Actually,” Sahara said, “I tried to convince him to work for me. He’d make an amazing bodyguard.”
Lisa leaned closer to guess “But he refused because he’d rather get busy in bed? Nice.”
Since that was so close to the truth, Sahara laughed. “He’s actually an MMA fighter, but he’s thinking of retiring from that. Until he makes up his mind, though, I don’t stand much chance of getting him to hire on.”
“Hello, Sahara.”
That particular deep voice, coming so close behind her, stole Sahara’s breath. She jerked around—and came face-to-face with her kidnapper. At first, she merely gaped. How had he gotten in here? How dare he approach her so publicly?
Seeing him in a lighted room, in a comforting crowd, gave her a whole new perspective. Yes, he was still big, and she realized he could still be threatening, but freshly shaved, his sandy brown hair combed back, his suit stylish, he seemed less a monster and more a controllable man.
You can do this, Sahara. He wouldn’t dare hurt you here.
For a few seconds her pounding heart kept her silent as they stared at each other, unblinking, her astounded and him pleased.
“What are you doing here?” she finally got out.
“You and I have unfinished business.” His gaze moved over her, belying any menace in those words. “God, you’re beautiful, even more than I realized.”
Hoping for a few minutes to think, Sahara turned to Lisa—but she was gone, drawn away into conversation with a nearby group. Her thoughts scrambled as she tried to decide what to do, and a second later she felt a big firm hand clasp her upper arm.
That was alarming enough, but then warm breath said into her ear, “Don’t run off. What are the odds of us meeting like this?”
She’d bet the odds were pretty damn good, since he’d obviously kept tabs on her to know where she’d be and when. Her entire body urged her to flee, but she wasn’t a coward and here, in this safe setting, might be her best chance to question him.
That is, if she could get some moisture back into her dry mouth, and tamp down on the internal trembling.
Bravado was her friend, and she turned back to him, her gaze direct and her voice cold. “Get your hands off me.”
He slid his loosened hold down her arm in a slow caress that gradually allowed her fingers to slip free. Undisturbed by her rancor, he casually leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I knew you’d be stunning tonight, but I never expected—” “You dare to come into the home of the district attorney?”
Rather than be alarmed by that disclosure, he flouted polite societal rules by taking a deep swig of his beer straight from the longneck bottle, his gaze never leaving hers. “You hoped to set me back on my heels, maybe panic me a little, didn’t you? Obviously, you don’t know that Douglas and I are old friends.” He smiled. “We go way back. We—”
“So this was a setup?” She had no doubt Douglas Grant associated with unsavory sorts, being so sleazy himself, but to invite one of those cohorts to a party? No, he would never. The only thing Grant cared more about than his twisted pleasure was his reputation and power. He wouldn’t risk those idly. “That’s why Douglas invited me, isn’t it? It wasn’t about him making peace with me at all.” She saw his surprise. “What do you have on him? I assume you used blackmail?”
His gaze gleamed...with admiration? She wasn’t sure.
Then he said, “Not much gets by you, does it?” in a way that confirmed he was impressed.
She waved it away. “I know Douglas, who and what he is. I should have thought of blackmailing him myself.”
Suddenly the hulk straightened and held out his hand. “What do you say we start over? I’m Ross Moran.”
Sahara ignored the gesture. “How do you know my brother?”
With a small smile, he let his hand fall back to his side. “He hired me for a job.”
“When?”
One brow lifted. “Not long before the yacht incident, actually.”
With a curl of her lip, she assured him, “I would have known if he’d hired thugs.”
“I’m not a thug,” he protested. “And yes, under usual circumstances, you probably would have known. This was private, though, and for a while, Scott and I were close.” He gazed down at her. “Close enough that I knew all about you.”
She found it very hard to believe that Scott had discussed her with a kidnapper.
Ross continued, saying, “Unfortunately, when things got...tricky, he tucked in his tail, ran away and refused to pay up. That’s the truth.”
Strange, but she believed him—at least that things had gotten tricky and that he hadn’t been paid. Scott wouldn’t have run away, though. If he avoided the mess, there was a good reason. “What job?”
“Like I said, it was private. So here, in the DA’s house, is not the place to discuss it.” Ross moved closer, suggesting huskily, “Have dinner with me, Sahara.”
She did not like the way he said her name, almost savoring it. “Sure, when hell freezes over.” Something occurred to her and she asked, “Did you twist Douglas’s arm to get him to lead Brand away?”
“Brand?”
“The man who came here with me.”
He lifted one thick shoulder. “You know how Douglas likes to brag. He was probably hoping to impress your friend.”
So he’d been watching her since her arrival? Of course he had. She suppressed a shudder of disquiet and lifted her chin. “Oh, he’s more than a friend.”
Ross’s attention dipped to her mouth. “Too bad for him, because I don’t like competition.”
Her eyes widened. Had he just issued a threat against Brand? She glared. “He has none.”
Ross let that go. “I had hoped you would come alone. It would’ve been easier, but you should know, I’m not going to let anyone get in my way.”
That was definitely a threat, damn it. She breathed more deeply, and leaned into his space to ask “You consider me stupid?”
He smiled, saying with admiration, “Far from it. I’ve never met a woman more clever than you, or more complicated. You look all soft and delicate, but I’m learning you have a backbone of steel.”
“It surprises you that I’m a strong woman? Careful, Mr. Moran, your sexism is showing through.”
He didn’t deny it. “Most women want to be coddled. And call me Ross.”
“I’d rather not. Our...association is going to be as brief as I can manage.”
“Funny,” he said. “I’m planning just the opposite.”
If she thought too much about his plans, she’d lose he
r facade of nonchalance. “Tell me about the job.”
“Join me for dinner.”
She shook her head and offered a compromise. “You could come to my office.”
He snorted a laugh. “Now who thinks who is stupid?”
“Oh, there should be no doubt what I think of you, Mr. Moran. Stupid is only the beginning of a litany of insults. After all, if Brand finds you here, he’ll—”
“Kill me?” Ross asked, unconcerned.
“You’re judging others through a very small prism of your own character. Brand is not a murderer. But he’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Don’t let it get around, but I’m not a murderer either.” He smiled. “And so you know, I’m not as unskilled as my men. If you think he’d have an easy time with me—”
“Famous last words.” She smirked. “He’d annihilate you.”
Ross laughed. “Let me worry about that, and you just worry about how and when we’ll get together to discuss Scott.”
Sahara expected Brand back at any moment. Once he arrived, she’d lose her chance to ask anything about Scott, so she needed to change tactics. Insulting Mr. Moran had gotten her nowhere, and hadn’t put the slightest dent in his annoying good humor.
She drew a slow breath and accused, “You’re a cruel man, Mr. Moran.”
“I can be.” He eased closer, his gaze caressing her face. “But never to you.”
So far, so good. “No? You kidnapped me, threatened me, accosted me—”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he said with a small smile. “It was just a kiss.”
God, she wanted to slap him. “—and now you taunt me with info about my missing brother. I’d call all that very cruel.”
“I need your brother to pay up. Using you to extort the money from him seems like the best option.”
Even while trying to soften her, he still planned to use her!
Growing serious, solemn, he pledged, “Understand something, Sahara. No matter what our future holds, you have my word that I won’t ever hurt you.”
Insane. He was certifiably, undeniably, insane. “You threatened to hurt me,” she reminded him.