Finding the Perfect Man

by Marie Higgins

  “What happened?” He stroked his large hands over her back.

  “A message…in the bathroom.”

  Keeping his strong arm around her shoulders, she hurried with him down the hall to the bathroom. Her body shook harder when he opened the door, and they stepped inside.

  Confusion wracked her brain as she stared at the now clean mirror. Where did it go? The mirror didn’t even look as if there had red lipstick written on it.

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. It was there. I saw it.”

  Brock pulled away from her long enough to check the stalls. He looked at her and shrugged. “Where’s the message?”

  “I don’t know. It was there not more than ten minutes ago.”

  “Was anyone else in the building?”

  “My last patient just left. I saw her leave. I heard her car pull away.” Jordan put her shaky hands on her cold cheeks. “Brock, I swear, there was a message.”

  “I know, pretty lady,” he said, pulling her back into his arms.

  She looked up into his eyes—eyes that held a hint of doubt. He didn’t believe her. Pain slashed through her heart from his unspoken rejection.

  Anger exploded inside of her, and she pushed him away. “You don’t believe me! You think I made this up.”

  Brock’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

  He reached out to touch her cheek, but she smacked his hands. “You doubted my story about the intruder coming into my bedroom, and by the look on your face, I can see you don’t believe me about this either. You probably don’t even believe someone sent me threatening letters.”

  “Jordan, honey, listen to yourself. Do you know how silly you sound?”

  She scowled. “Don’t talk to me with that patronizing tone. I know perfectly well how I sound.” But in pause, she realized he was right. She did sound ridiculous. No, she sounded…crazy, the same way her father acted a month before he killed himself. Could insanity run in the family?

  Wrapping her arms around her middle, she walked out of the bathroom, back into her office. How could she treat her patients if she wasn’t in her right mind?

  “Jordan,” Brock called after her, following closely behind. “You’re stressed. Let Erica call and reschedule your appointments for today.”

  With all the strength she could muster, she lifted her chin in defiance. “Erica is home sick today, and I will not reschedule my appointments. My patients are the only thing in my life that makes me feel complete. I won’t put them aside just because I’m having a bad day.”

  He took her shoulders in a soft hold. “Then I’m going to fill in for Erica. I don’t want you here by yourself.”

  Once again, her heart twisted in confused pain. Why did he doubt her one minute then act so caring the next? “What about your own job?”

  He grinned. “I’m the boss, remember? I’ll just call my secretary and inform her I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

  This time when he brushed his fingers across her cheek, she didn’t stop him. The tenderness of his touch made her nuzzle her face against his hand and she wanted to cry all over again. “Oh, Brock. You probably think poorly of me. Forgive me for saying what I did. All of this is so frustrating, and…” She shook her head, as tears began to fall.

  “No need to apologize, pretty lady,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “We’ll figure out what’s going on. I promise.”

  More tears slid down her cheek, so she pressed her face against his hard chest. “Why do I feel as if I’m losing my mind?”

  “Maybe that’s what this jerk is trying to make you feel. Have you ever thought of that?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to piece anything together right now. But since he’d mentioned it, her mind snapped into action, and she thought back to everything that had happened so far. The missing letters. No trace of the man in her room. Now this. What advantage would her stalker have by making her feel insane?

  The tinkling of the bells hanging on her door brought her back to the present. She had an appointment. She jumped out of his arms and wiped her tears.

  “Brock, if you’ll wait another hour for me, I’ll be able to have lunch with you.”

  He nodded and kissed her lips. “I’ll be right outside the door sitting in Erica’s chair.” He winked. “But remember, I don’t have a fingernail file, so I’ll be completely bored.”

  She laughed, loving the way he was able to change her moods. “You’re a cad, but I love you for it.”

  As soon as she said it, she snapped her mouth closed. Why had she told him that? Although she’d felt it for a few days now, she didn’t want to admit it. But now that it was out, would she deny it?

  Holding her breath, she studied his reaction. His wide-eyed stare held hers. Slowly his face relaxed, and a smile touched his mouth. He pulled her into his arms, placing his lips on hers. Without words, she felt his answer.

  He loved her, too—even if she was crazy.

  Giddiness bubbled in her chest, and she threw her arms around his wide shoulders, pulling him closer as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. His hands moved all over her back, bringing her closer.

  “Jordan.” He tore his mouth from hers. “Your patient is in the next room. As much as I’d like to continue this, I think we’d better stop.”

  She giggled and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  His heated stare burned into her when he grinned. “Don’t be sorry. We can talk during lunch.”

  “Talk?”

  “Or whatever.” He winked.

  He stepped away and walked to the door. Before leaving, his mouth formed the words, I love you, too.

  * * * *

  After her patient left, Brock took Jordan in his arms and kissed her long and hard, drugging her with the passion building inside him. But he had to stop it, or he’d lose his mind…if he hadn’t already. Yet he loved her—loved her with every fiber of his being. Loved her with both heart and mind.

  Funny he’d feel this way because he hadn’t planned on losing his heart when he first met her.

  He helped her slip into her coat before taking her outside to his truck. Once he climbed inside and shut the door, he started up the engine and shifted into drive. The tires gripped the snow-packed road remarkably well as he drove out of the parking lot.

  “Where do you want to go for lunch?” he asked, glancing her way.

  “Let’s go to my place. It’s closer, and since I haven’t been there for a couple of days, I think I should check on things. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, good idea. Do you want me to pick something up that we can eat?”

  “I have canned soup at home if that’s all right.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Reaching his hand over, he grabbed hold of her gloved fingers and squeezed lightly. “Are you feeling better now?” He took a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road. “You look better. More color is in your cheeks now.”

  “Yes, I do feel better. I just wish I knew who was doing this to me.”

  “We’ll figure it out. I won’t rest until it’s done.”

  She rested her head against the seat and turned to look at him. “Brock, why are you doing this? In fact, why do you put up with my crazy mood swings?”

  “I know this isn’t easy for you, Jordan. I understand why your moods keep jumping from one level to another. I’ll be here to support—and comfort you any way I can.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’ll always be here for you, pretty lady.” He winked at her before watching the road again.

  Not another word was said as he drove. It took only minutes to get to her townhouse. He stopped and jumped out, ran around the car to open her door. She slipped her hands against his palms, entwining her fingers with his. Her eyes sparkled when she smiled at him. Excitement drummed inside
him. He wanted so badly to be alone with her, to hold and kiss her, but especially to talk about what they’d said to each other not too long ago.

  She unlocked the door and they walked in. Brock glanced around the living room to see if anything had been disturbed from when they’d left the other day. Thankfully, everything looked the same.

  She entered the kitchen and withdrew two cans of stews. “This all right for lunch?”

  “Of course.” He took them from her. “Let me get them started. You go into the front room and relax.”

  “I can’t let you do that.” She reached for the cans, but he raised his arms above her head so she couldn’t touch them. “I mean it, Jordan. Go relax.”

  Shaking her head, she grinned. “You’re a turd.”

  “You betcha.” He winked.

  “I’m going upstairs to my bedroom to freshen up a bit.”

  “Don’t be long,” he told her.

  He found two microwave bowls from her cabinets and proceeded to pour a can in each. It had been only minutes since she left, but he missed her already.

  Suddenly, a loud scream came from Jordan. Alarm jolted through him, followed by panic. He dropped the soup and dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

  Jordan stood in the door frame of her room. Her face void of color as she stared blankly inside her room. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms protectively around her waist.

  Clothes scattered the floor, some ripped in pieces. The open closet door showed the same disarray inside. Her oak dresser drawers stood open, and her bras and underwear hung askew. Even her jewelry littered the floor and bed.

  A sob tore from her throat as she turned and buried her face in his chest. “Who would do this to me?”

  She shivered as he pulled her body closer to his. “I don’t know, but I’m definitely going to find out and put a stop to this madness.”

  “Brock, just take me downstairs. I don’t want to see this.”

  Without question, he turned and did as she asked. When they reached the living room, he set her on the couch before sitting beside her. She cuddled in his arms.

  “Jordan? Do you have any patients capable of this?”

  “No.” She looked up at him. “The more I thought about what you said, the more I think you’re right. Someone wants me to think I’m crazy.”

  He shook his head. “I just don’t understand.”

  “All the letters he sent me through the mail are now missing. When he was in my room the other night, he didn’t leave behind any clues. And this afternoon in the bathroom there wasn’t a trace of lipstick when you arrived.”

  He stroked her face, pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead. “True, but look at the mess he left now. Besides, who would want to make you think you’re crazy?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “A friend?”

  “No.”

  “A former boyfriend?”

  She started to shake her head then stopped. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my… No, it couldn’t’ be.”

  “Couldn’t be who?”

  “Kenneth!”

  “Why him?”

  Her eyes moved away from Brock’s as she stared at his neck, deep in thought. Within seconds, her face lost all color again. When she turned her attention back to him, panic streaked through her.

  “Because of Serena.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “Serena is dying. Half of her company was my father’s. At her death all of it will be mine.”

  He shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t Kenneth get half? And why would he want you to think you’re crazy?”

  “Because my father’s insane. My father committed suicide.” She paused, then continued. “Serena’s Will states that the company will go to me unless I’m proven mentally unfit.” Her eyes widened. “Don’t you see? If Kenneth makes me believe I’ve inherited my father’s insanity, he can take the company once Serena dies.”

  She kept silent for a few more minutes. “Brock, now that I think about it, the man in my room could have been Kenneth. They’re the same size. Although I didn’t recognize his aftershave, I did smell bourbon on his breath. Kenneth always drinks bourbon.” She sat up straighter. “Kenneth knows my place. He would know how to get in and out quickly, not to mention my office since he was there several times while we were dating.”

  Cursing, Brock ran his fingers through his hair. “Now what do we do? How do we trap him?”

  Her shoulders wilted, and she leaned her head against his chest. “I’m stumped.”

  “You know I’ll do anything to protect you, right?”

  “Yes, and I love you for caring so much.”

  He smiled. She said it again…said those wonderful three little words to him, and only him.

  Laying his head back against the sofa, he looked at the ceiling, hoping for inspiration to strike, for some idea to help her. He ran his hand up and down her arm while her palm rested on his chest.

  “Somehow we need to catch him in the act,” he said, trying to fit the pieces of this confusing puzzle together in his mind. “Since everything happened here or at your office, we need to set a trap.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “No, not yet. We need hard evidence to convince them.”

  “What do you suggest?” She laid her head on the crook of his shoulder.

  “We’ll have to take pictures of him in action,” he finished before another idea struck. “I’ll get my brother Jake to help. He’s built like me and has the same dark hair. If Kenneth is watching you, he’ll think Jake is me.”

  “Um… That is actually a great idea.” She looked at him with wide, excited eyes.

  “I could hide outside, and you could leave the house with Jake. When Kenneth shows up, I’ll catch him in the act and take pictures of what he’s doing.”

  “Oh, Brock.” She leaned up and kissed his lips. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, relishing in the tender moment.

  When she broke the kiss, she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” He nodded.

  “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  Her confusing words had him shaking his head. “I have said a lot of things, Jordan.”

  She grinned up at him. “I just told you I loved you for the second time today, but you haven’t said anything about it.”

  He chuckled softly, leaned over her as he pushed her down into the couch, staring deeply into her eyes. “Do you mean it? Do you really love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though I lied to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair before kissing him briefly. “What do you think?”

  He chuckled. “I think I love you, too.”

  Laughing, her blue eyes sparkled like diamonds. “You think?”

  Sweeping his lips across hers, he teased her with feathery kisses. “Actually, I don’t think. I know I do. Jordan, I love you more than I can imagine. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

  “That’s how I feel, too.” She smiled lazily as she caressed the side of his face.

  “So let’s figure out how to put a stop to this madman who is set on wrecking your life so that you and I can be together…forever.”

  She nodded. “That’s the perfect plan.”

  * * * *

  Brock’s plan was brilliant. She just hoped Kenneth fell for it. He had to. There was no other way.

  Brock was right when he’d told her his brother looked a lot like him. In the shadows, Jordan might not even know the difference, but in the light, she could see Jake was younger, not by much, though. Jake had the same build, the same black wavy hair, but Jake didn’t have Brock’s sexy green eyes. Instead, Jake’s were hazel.

  Jake stood inside her front room while she stood, cuddling against
Brock by the back door.

  He kissed her long and hard. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Jake, take good care of her,” Brock told his brother before he slipped out the door and sneaked into the garage.

  Jake wore the same crisp new Levis and white cotton tee-shirt Brock had on. He even went as far as to slick his hair back like his older brother.

  He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side as they walked toward the door. “Too bad I didn’t meet you first,” he said. “I’m sure you would have fallen for me instead of my brother.”

  She cocked her head and looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t you the brother who came to visit Brock and his parents on Christmas…bringing his wife and kids?”

  He laughed. “You’re thinking about the oldest Hamill brother, Steven.”

  “Oh, good. I’m happy to know you aren’t that brother and trying to hit on me.”

  His arm squeezed around her a little tighter. “If I did try to hit on you, Brock would kill me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he would.” She grinned.

  It seemed Jake also had his brother’s flirtatious sense of humor. She laughed as she walked with him to Brock’s Jag. Just like his brother, he opened the door for her.

  Her heart pounded with anxiety. She hoped everything would go according to plan. Catching Kenneth was vitally important, not only for her state of mind, but also for her stepmother’s. Serena couldn’t turn her company over to a person like him.

  As they drove off, Jordan glanced in the mirror, silently praying Brock would be safe. Who knew how dangerous Kenneth could be right now? After all, this was ten billion dollars he fought for.

  SEVENTEEN

  Dressed from head to toe in black, Brock hoped he wouldn’t be spotted lurking in the shadows behind Jordan’s townhouse. He also prayed her neighbors wouldn’t see him and call the cops. He couldn’t have that, not before he caught Kenneth in action.

  Holding tight to the expensive camera around his neck, he crouched in the bushes, watching and waiting. In his younger days when he was married, his hobby was photography. Lanie had laughed in his face and made fun of it, calling it a wimpy hobby. He hadn’t picked up a camera since. Now everything was different. Although it might be dangerous, he anticipated working with his camera again and catching a criminal.