Brianna was dragging by the time she got home, lost in waves of self-pity and regrets. Though her pulse took an unwanted leap at the sight of Jeb waiting on her doorstep, she was in no mood to welcome him.
Even so, for a fleeting moment she found herself regretting that she hadn’t dressed in something other than jeans and a faded teal T-shirt when she’d run out of the house to pay a quick visit to Emma. She looked decidedly frumpy, while he managed to make his own jeans and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up look like something out of a men’s fashion spread in GQ.
Why was it that she constantly felt at a total disadvantage with this man? She worked in a man’s world. She had never been easily intimidated, but there was no denying that Jeb rattled her. He could shake her composure without even opening his mouth. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that he deliberately kept her off balance. She couldn’t get a fix on his real intentions.
And so she approached him with wariness.
“Where have you been this early on a beautiful Saturday morning?” he asked as she neared. “Not the office, I know, because I called there.”
Even though his tone was curious rather than accusatory, Brianna instinctively bristled. “Checking up on me, Mr. Delacourt?”
“Now that I’ve held you in my arms, I think you can stick to calling me Jeb,” he chided. “No, I wasn’t checking up on you, just looking for you. I thought you might want to do something today. It’s a little late now, but we could go out for breakfast.”
“Sorry. I’ve already eaten.”
“So that’s where you were. Having breakfast with a friend?”
Brianna grasped the explanation eagerly. “Yes. If I’d known you were thinking of coming by, I could have told you I had a prior engagement. Some people actually call ahead.”
He shook his head. “Too easy to get turned down. It’s harder for you to say no to my face.”
Despite her dark mood, her lips twitched with amusement at his feigned vulnerability. “Is that so? Well, I’m sorry, but the answer is still no.”
“How about lunch then? Or dinner?”
“I thought you had another ball to attend tonight.”
“I’ll skip it.”
“Won’t that upset your date?”
“I was planning on going solo. They have my money. No one will miss me.”
Brianna doubted that.
He gave her one of those winning, megawatt smiles. “So, how about it?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Another date?”
“No.”
“Too much to do?”
“Yes.”
“You work too hard,” he scolded. “It’s not good for you. You need to relax, have some fun.”
“I thought that’s what I did last night. Now I have to catch up.”
“On?”
“Housework. Paperwork. I have an important business trip at the end of next week.”
Clearly undaunted, he suggested, “Tell me about it.”
“You’d be bored to tears.”
“It’s my family’s business. Why would I be bored?”
Put in her place, Brianna searched for an explanation that would ring true. She couldn’t very well tell him that he made her uneasy, that she simply wanted him to go, that she didn’t want to get too comfortable with having someone—especially him—around.
“Rumor has it that you don’t care all that much about oil, that you’re working at the company because your father expects it,” she said eventually. “Naturally I assumed hearing about dirt samples and rocks would bore you.”
He surveyed her with one of those knowing, penetrating looks that he obviously knew rattled her. “I’ll bet you could make it interesting.”
“I don’t have time to try,” she said flatly. Then because her first tactic had clearly backfired, she tried another one. “Before I get down to work, I have to do my chores around here. With my schedule, I have to stick to a routine.”
“In other words, you’re in a rut.”
“I prefer to think of it as living a structured life,” she said testily.
“Okay, then, I’ll help,” he volunteered.
Taken aback by the unexpected offer, she stared at him. “You’ll help?” she repeated, as if his offer hadn’t been entirely clear. When he nodded, she asked, “Why?”
“Why not? I can run a vacuum or dust as well as the next person, though I’m a little curious why a woman with so much on her plate and making your salary wouldn’t have a maid.”
“Because I have better uses for my money,” she said tersely, brushing past him and going inside, hoping to put an end to this absurd discussion. If she could have, she would have slammed the door in his face, but there were a whole lot of reasons for not doing that, starting with his ability to make trouble for her at the office. Naturally, he didn’t take the hint. He followed.
The minute he crossed the threshold, she very nearly panicked. Had she left the door to Emma’s room closed, as she usually did? Though the townhouse was a recent acquisition, purchased in the aftermath of the divorce because she no longer had the funds or the time to cope with the upkeep on the house she and her ex had shared, she had decorated a room for her daughter. It was filled with dolls and stuffed animals, the overflow from a collection too big for Emma’s room at the rehab center.
The bed was a little girl’s dream, a white four-poster with a pink eyelet canopy and matching comforter. Emma had picked it out just before the accident, but she had never slept in it. It had been delivered during those awful days when they hadn’t known if she would live or die. When Larry would have sent it back, Brianna had insisted on keeping it, clinging to it as a talisman that her daughter would get well and come home again.
“Excuse me a minute,” she said, and dashed upstairs to check the door. If she couldn’t talk Jeb into leaving, she had to be sure he wouldn’t spot any evidence that she had a daughter.
Upstairs, she found the door to Emma’s room closed. She turned the key in the lock as an added precaution, then pocketed it. Thank heavens, the only pictures of Emma were in her bedroom, a place she was all but certain she could manage to keep Jeb from entering.
When she went back downstairs, she found Jeb surveying the living room with open curiosity. She thought she detected surprise at the simplicity of her surroundings. Other than Emma’s room, she had done little to turn the townhouse into a home. She hadn’t wanted to spend the time and she hadn’t had the money. The truth was, every spare cent she had went into Emma’s care. The insurance covered a lot, but far from everything.
“I know it’s understated,” she said defensively, “but I like it.”
He seemed surprised by her defensiveness. “Did I say anything about the decor?” he asked.
“No, but I could see the wheels churning in that mind of yours. You know what I earn and it’s clear I don’t spend it on knickknacks.”
His gaze clashed with hers. Though there was a teasing glint in his eyes, she couldn’t help thinking he was dead serious when he asked, “So, where do you put all that money, Brianna?”
She forced a lighter tone into her voice. “Maybe I gamble,” she suggested. “Maybe I have a thing for expensive jewelry and it’s all socked away in a safety-deposit box.”
He laughed as if he found the responses every bit as absurd as she had intended. “And maybe you just don’t see the point in spending a lot on a place where you spend so little time,” he suggested mildly, giving her choice a surprisingly innocent spin.
“Exactly,” she said, seizing the explanation. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really do have work to do, and I’m sure you have better ways to spend your Saturday.”
“Actually this suits me just fine. I said I’d help and I will. What needs to be done first? Don’t be shy. I’ve done my share of hard labor. I spent one backbreaking summer in the oil fields at Dad’s insistence. I survived that. I can survive whatever chores you’d like to assign me.”
Daun
ted and admittedly a little intrigued by his persistence, she tested him by pointing to the hall closet. “The vacuum’s in there. The mop’s in the kitchen. All the floors need doing.”
“You’ve got it,” he said willingly, then caught her arm when she would have headed for the stairs. “There’s just one catch.”
She bit back a sigh. “I should have known. What is it?”
“I take you out for a nice, leisurely lunch when we’re finished.” Before she could protest, he added, “Topped off by some decadent, gooey dessert.”
Brianna laughed at his triumphant expression. Clearly he was convinced he knew exactly how to tempt her. And the sorry truth was, he did.
“How did you know my weakness for decadent desserts, Mr. Delacourt?” she demanded, trying hard to imply that he’d obviously been poking around in highly classified documents to learn that tidbit about her nature.
He winked. “Sweetheart, I know more about you than you think, and what I don’t know, I intend to find out.”
Threat or promise? Brianna wondered, suddenly nervous all over again. But there was no backing out now, not when he was already turning on the vacuum and attacking the carpet with a vengeance. She’d just have to keep her guard up. Unfortunately, that was rapidly getting to be easier said than done. Jeb Delacourt had a nasty habit of surprising her in ways that made him more and more appealing.
Jeb tried to imagine what his brothers would think if they could see him pushing a vacuum from room to room in a place that wasn’t even his own. They’d probably be astonished he even knew how to turn it on, especially since his own place tended to suffer from severe inattention between the maid’s visits.
He, however, considered this to be a very clever way of getting to poke through all the rooms in his chief suspect’s house. It gave him plenty of time to check out her possessions, to determine if she was living beyond her means.
Unfortunately, he had to admit all of the evidence pointed to the opposite. If anything, Brianna’s lifestyle appeared spartan. The furniture was comfortable, but not new or expensive. There were a few pictures on the walls, but most were prints, not originals. The china closet held an assortment of elegant dishes and crystal, but the sets were by no means complete, suggesting that what she did have had been wedding presents. The dust he found on them when he ran a finger over the surface of a plate suggested they were seldom used.
So what did she spend her money on? Was she just a very frugal woman? Was she simply salting it away for retirement? He certainly hadn’t believed for a minute her deliberately taunting remarks about throwing her money away on gambling or investing in jewels.
Just when he was concluding that perhaps his suspicions were unfounded, he came to a locked door. He tried the handle twice to be sure the door was locked and not merely stuck. Why would a woman who lived alone need to lock a room? What did she keep hidden behind that door?
As with most interior locks, this one could be picked in a heartbeat, but not with Brianna just down the hall. If she found him inside that room, no explanation he came up with would be good enough. He decided to try an innocent game and see how it played out.
“Hey, Brianna,” he called.
She poked her head out of the room he already knew was her home office. When she saw where he was standing, did her complexion turn pale or was that his imagination? She took a step toward him, then seemed to force herself to stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Do you want me to vacuum in here? The door seems to be stuck.”
“Leave it,” she said readily, perhaps even eagerly. “There’s nothing but a bunch of junk in there. I use it for storing boxes I haven’t unpacked.”
The explanation made sense on the surface, but it didn’t satisfy Jeb. Why lock a room if the only things in it were junk that hadn’t been unpacked? His imagination, already stirred, ran wild. He began to envision boxes stuffed with…what? Hundred-dollar bills? Jewels? Stolen equipment? A spy’s home computer hookup?
He needed to get a look inside that room, but it was impossible today. Resigned to leaving it for another time, he merely waved an acknowledgment to Brianna, switched the vacuum back on and moved down the corridor as if he’d accepted her explanation at face value. He noticed that only when he was well away from the mysterious room did she retreat into her office once more.
A half hour later he was finished with the vacuuming and mopping in the kitchen when a brainstorm struck. He poked his head into Brianna’s office.
“Okay, boss,” he said with a mock salute. “I’m done. What’s next?”
She glanced up distractedly as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. Her blue-green eyes seemed to take a moment to adjust. “What?”
“Anything more for me to do?”
“No, I think you can get time off for good behavior,” she said with a smile that almost seemed genuine. “Thanks for the help, though.”
“You ready to go to lunch then?”
She shook her head. “Not just yet. I want to go over these reports one more time. You can go on, if you have other things to do.”
She was still trying to get rid of him, he thought with something that bordered on irritation. If his ego were one iota weaker, he’d be insulted. There was no time for that, though, because he had a plan and she had just played right into it.
“I don’t mind waiting. In the meantime, why don’t I get started on some of those boxes for you?” he suggested.
“Boxes?” she repeated blankly.
Bingo, Jeb thought. There were no boxes in that spare room. He’d guessed as much. How would she handle it if he persisted?
“In the spare room,” he reminded her. “I could at least get them unpacked and you could put the stuff where you want it later.”
“Absolutely not,” she blurted.
For an instant there was unmistakable panic in her eyes. But she covered it quickly. A polite mask slipped back into place. He had to give her credit for putting on a terrific act, when it was obvious that he was too close to some secret she didn’t want to share.
“I just meant that you’ve already done way too much,” she said in a rush. “If I haven’t needed what’s in those boxes by now, then it’s probably not important.”
She dropped her pen on her desk and stood up, brushing at imaginary lint on her jeans. “Maybe we should go to lunch. I’m sure I’ll be able to work better after I’ve had something to eat. I missed breakfast completely.”
Jeb seized on the remark, which directly contradicted what she’d told him earlier about her whereabouts. Had he just caught her in another lie? “I thought you told me you’d been out to breakfast with a friend.”
Bright patches of color flared on her cheeks. “True.” she said, clearly improvising. “But I didn’t feel like having anything more than coffee.”
Jeb didn’t believe her tortured explanation for a minute. But why lie about something so innocuous? Where had she really been so early in the morning on a Saturday? Had she been getting together with a contact to reveal more Delacourt secrets?
Rather than exonerating her as he’d begun to hope he was going to do, it seemed he was accumulating more and more circumstantial evidence against her. Lies on top of lies. A secret room. And behavior that he could only describe as edgy. She wasn’t forthcoming about even the simplest things. There had to be a reason for it, and he doubted he was going to like it.
He met her gaze evenly, watched as her chin lifted a defiant notch.
“Do you want to go to lunch or not?” she asked, her gaze unflinching.
“Oh, I definitely want to go to lunch,” he responded. There were too many things about Brianna O’Ryan that fascinated him.
Unfortunately, not all of them were suspicious.
Chapter Five
Brianna hadn’t been this jittery since her wedding day. For once in the past few days it had nothing to do with her physical attraction to Jeb. It was all about the man’s clever attempts to dig up inform
ation she didn’t want to reveal. She hadn’t been deluded for a minute back at the house. He had been after information, not her company.
Well, maybe not entirely. From time to time she had caught him watching her with what could only be interpreted as masculine appreciation. But in general, his attention had been focused on tripping her up, especially with all those helpful little offers that would have gotten him into Emma’s room. Was his fascination with the locked door curiosity or something more?
From the moment he’d shown up in her office, she had suspected that he was after something. She had worked at Delacourt Oil for months without catching more than a glimpse of him. Now he’d paid a visit to her office, taken her to a very public event and shown up on her doorstep, all in one week. She doubted it was because he’d suddenly found her irresistible.
Since he was impossible to shake, she knew she’d better confront him directly—and soon—or she would make herself crazy wondering. She vowed to make it the first topic of conversation once they reached whatever restaurant he’d chosen for lunch.
But instead of heading for some casual outdoor café suitable for their attire, Jeb stopped his fancy sports utility vehicle in front of a gourmet deli in a No Parking zone.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, darting from the car before she could question him or point out the likelihood that he was courting a ticket. Maybe such mundane things as parking tickets didn’t matter to the very rich.
He returned much faster than she’d anticipated, and he was carrying a huge picnic hamper. “Since it’s such a beautiful day, I thought we’d go to a little park I know. Okay with you?”
“Sure,” Brianna said, more charmed than she cared to admit. She’d figured him—all of the Delacourts, for that matter—as see-and-be-seen types. Of course, she was hardly dressed for one of Houston’s best restaurants or country clubs and, after his efforts with the vacuum and mop, neither was Jeb. Maybe this was all about protecting his image, rather than taking her on some romantic little excursion.
The Pint-Sized Secret Page 5