His Brother's Fiancée

by Jasmine Cresswell

  She frowned, her gaze narrowing. "What has your age and your career got to do with J. C. Hunter?"

  "Well quite a lot." Jordan cleared his throat again. He damn near shuffled his feet. "Actually, I am J. C. Hunter."

  Emily's brown eyes widened, the gold flecks unusually prominent. "You're joking, right?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  "You're J. C. Hunter?" She swung around to look again at the armoire, and then back at him. "You made this?" She couldn't have appeared more astonished if he'd claimed to be the president of the United States, or Elvis, returned from the grave.

  Hoping he didn't sound as lamebrained as he felt, Jordan expanded on his explanation. "The initials J.C. stand for Jordan Chambers. And Hunter was my grandmother's name. We were always very close, and she put up some of the capital I needed to get the business started, so I chose the name to honor her. She died two years ago, unfortunately, but she was a wonderful woman. I wish you could have met her."

  Emily sat down hard on the bed, looking up at him as if she'd never seen him before. "You're really and truly J. C. Hunter?"

  "Yes, I am."

  She stared into space for several silent seconds, then she sprang up from the bed and rounded on him. But instead of looking impressed as he'd half hoped, she looked furious. "Does anyone in your family know that you're J. C. Hunter?"

  "My grandmother—"

  "But she's dead," Emily said ruthlessly. "What about the ones who are alive? Your parents, for example. Do they have any idea what you've achieved, and how successful you are? Do they recognize what amazing talent you have?"

  Jordan tried to sound cynically amused, but suspected he sounded bitter instead. "My parents wouldn't recognize my talent if it turned into a dog and bit them on the ass."

  "How do you know what their reaction would be?" Emily demanded. "Have you ever tried showing them what you've achieved, as opposed to making sure they believe the worst about you?"

  He shrugged. "Of course not. They're much too happy imagining what a disastrous failure I've made of my life. I don't want to spoil their fun."

  Far from being pacified, Emily's anger intensified. "What kind of a stupid answer is that? You must be some weird sort of masochist, Jordan. Why else would you allow your parents to ridicule you, and your brother to dismiss your work as if it's of no consequence? Why don't you want them to know you've achieved something extraordinary?"

  "My parents have a very narrow view of how their sons should earn a living. Chambers men are supposed to wear starched shirts to work. They sure as heck don't go through a batch of towels a day mopping up sweat. Besides, my parents consider artists and con artists as words for virtually the same activity. If you think they would be happy to know that I'm successfully designing furniture, you're mistaken. When I was a teenager, I won several statewide contests for wood carvings that I'd done. My father was so embarrassed, he cringed when I brought home the winners' plaques. In his world, men who like to paint or sculpt must be gay. Which, of course, is about the worst fate he could imagine for a son of his."

  Her eyes flashed fire. "In other words, you haven't told your parents what you do because you're punishing them. You're mad at them because they haven't ever made the effort to see you for the person you really are."

  He lifted his shoulder in another dismissive shrug, although he was surprised at how accurate her assessment was. "I've invited both my parents to visit my factory, more than once. If either of them had ever taken me up on my offer, they'd have seen that I wasn't scraping a living by building a cheap line of mass-produced kitchen cabinets. The fact that neither one of them has ever bothered to come and see where I work speaks for itself, don't you think?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "It does. You tested them, and they failed the test. They've hurt you."

  "Maybe." Jordan could hear the harshness in his own voice. "I'll admit there's an element of 'screw you' in all this. My parents seem determined to believe I'm a failure, so I'm happy to leave them to their misconceptions."

  "You have to tell them the truth, Jordan. You need to show them what you've achieved—"

  "Why?"

  "For your sake, not for theirs." Emily still sounded fierce. "You should take your success and rub their noses in it. Force them to acknowledge it."

  Jordan gave a small smile. "Why, Emily, you almost sound as if you care."

  "I do care," she said. "You have an amazing talent, Jordan. You've not only established a profitable business, you create furniture that will be treasured in people's homes for generations. That's something to be really proud of."

  Jordan had won many design awards for his furniture and made enough money that he'd long ago convinced himself that his family's disdain was a matter of indifference to him. Emily's lavish praise of his work was balm to a wound he hadn't quite realized was there. Still, he was uncomfortable discussing subjects that were usually off-limits, and his relationship with his family was a subject he took care never to examine. He was accustomed to easy physical intimacy with women, but emotional intimacy was something altogether different, and he had no clear idea how he and Emily had ended up so swiftly in such a private place.

  Not sure how to handle a situation that was new for him in every way, he spoke with studied casualness. "I was a pain in the butt when I was a kid. Michael, on the other hand, has always been the perfect Chambers offspring. Now he's crowning his other achievements by campaigning to be governor of Texas. Under the circumstances, I don't think my parents are likely to be impressed by the news that I've acquired a decent reputation for cabinet-making within the furniture industry."

  "Well, they should be. Recognizing your achievements doesn't undercut Michael's success. Besides, if they're counting on Michael to burnish the Chambers reputation, they're going to be disappointed. Governor Kincaid will be reelected in a landslide, and then Michael will simply be another ex-candidate searching for employment."

  Jordan was surprised by her unequivocal verdict on an election that was still months in the future. "That's not what the polls predict. They're suggesting that Kincaid is vulnerable."

  "Do you think polls have any real meaning this far in advance of the election? Voters aren't paying much attention right now, and Michael looks really good on camera, but Kincaid has all the advantages of the incumbent. Plus, he got elected in the first place because he promised to be tough on organized crime, and he's been very effective in securing convictions against mob figures. Voters like politicians who keep their promises."

  Jordan grinned. "Yeah, I noticed Kincaid has been milking the conviction of J. B. Crowe for all it's worth. He can't give an interview without mentioning that the guy is finally getting the punishment he deserves, all thanks to Kincaid's administration."

  Emily nodded. "And Kincaid has grabbed some great PR opportunities recently with his daughter and his new grandbaby. Alexandra. You see, I even remember the granddaughter's name because she's so cute. Michael can't compete with a cooing little baby granddaughter for voter affections. No man could."

  Jordan raised his eyebrow. "You sound very sure of yourself. Yet Michael has plenty of moneymen lined up, and money doesn't usually flow to a potential loser."

  "Michael's strength is in pleasing the moneymen, but he's only just started to take his campaign direct to the voters. And Texan voters are smart enough to see that he isn't offering them anything very exciting."

  "Maybe he doesn't have to be exciting to win. Kincaid has had his problems as well as his successes, after all. Michael could win by default, simply because he's not Kincaid."

  Emily shook her head. "Even though the economy's strong, voters still care about educational reform, and child care for working mothers, and health care for poor families. But Michael's not the right man to capitalize on Kincaid's weakness in those areas."

  "I disagree. Michael's plenty smart enough to exploit any vulnerability his opponent shows."

  "Smart has nothing to do with it. You can't be effective when you'
re operating from a script, instead of speaking from your heart. Michael needs to care about the issues in his gut, not just because Jeff Greiff has written him a position paper. The truth is, Michael doesn't care about anything in the sort of visceral way that would connect him to the voters. He's too damned patrician to get all sweaty and worked up over policy issues. The whole time we were engaged, I never heard Michael speak with heartfelt conviction on a single public policy issue. Capital punishment? 'Well, Emily, there are sound arguments on both sides.' Gun control? 'It's a Second Amendment issue, Emily. Nothing for me to take a stand on.'" She gave a frustrated sigh. "Heck, I used to get hotter under the collar than he did!"

  Jordan sent her an amused glance. "You sound as if you want my brother to get some good old-fashioned fire in his belly. And start breathing it out on anyone who gets within range."

  "I sure do," Emily said. "But Michael is going to campaign strictly according to the plan laid out by the political pros. He wants to be governor because he wants to be governor. That's not a reason to run for office, and Texan voters for sure aren't going to elect him just because he feels the Chambers family is owed the governorship by virtue of hereditary entitlement."

  Jordan sat down on the bed. "A cynic might suggest that the fact my brother dumped you hours before the wedding has affected your view of how likely he is to win the election."

  "Then the cynic would be wrong. I've changed my opinion about a lot of things since Friday morning, but I never thought Michael had a realistic chance of winning the race for governor."

  "Funny. I always assumed you wanted to be the First Lady of Texas."

  "No." Emily spoke with total conviction. "I'm very interested in some of the issues that politicians have to deal with, but being a politician's wife is definitely not my idea of fun."

  "In that case, exactly why did you agree to marry my brother?"

  Color crept into Emily's cheeks. "You can't believe that I might have been in love with him?"

  "No. Sorry, Em. I watched the two of you together for three months. I'm damn sure you weren't in love with my brother. Not with the sort of fire and passion you were just talking about, anyway."

  "Perhaps not," she conceded. "But at the time we got engaged, we seemed compatible. As far as I'm concerned, that counts a lot in making a marriage successful."

  "There must be a hundred bachelors in San Antonio that you would find compatible as live-in companions. Maybe a thousand. Why pick Michael?"

  She sighed. "The truth's pretty humiliating, but if you must know, I've realized over the past few days that I accepted Michael's proposal chiefly because my friends all considered him to be the state's most eligible bachelor."

  "I wouldn't have figured you as a woman who would marry just to show that she can win the prize," Jordan said quietly. "You're smart, beautiful, sexy and you have a job you're good at and obviously like. Why would you want to marry Michael—or any other man for that mat—unless you loved him deeply?"

  Emily hesitated, and Jordan fully expected her to say something evasive, or even to put an end to a conversation that was cutting closer to the bone than either of them had been prepared for. But once again, she surprised him by answering with evident honesty.

  "My attitude toward marriage has always been more practical than most other people's, I guess. I never wanted to fall deeply in love. I still don't. I like to feel in control of myself, and being in love means by definition that you're out of control. Passion causes people to do things that they'll live to regret. I want no part of it."

  He wondered if she realized just how much she was revealing about herself with those few brief—and sad— sentences. "Being in love and feeling passionate sexual desire can also bring people a lot of happiness."

  "For five minutes," Emily said tersely. "And then, all too often, innocent people are left behind to face the consequences."

  He took her hands into his, reacting instinctively to the pain in her voice. "I get the feeling you're talking about your own life experiences, Em, rather than discussing general principles."

  "Maybe I am." She looked down, but didn't make any attempt to withdraw her hands from his grasp.

  "Talk to me, Em. Tell me what happened. Did some man you loved let you down? Treat you badly?"

  "No," she replied quickly. So quickly that he guessed this time, at least, she wasn't telling the truth. "Then what?" he pressed.

  In the process of avoiding his gaze, she finally noticed his fireplace, and walked over to it, running her hand absently over the rough stones. "This is lovely," she said. "I like the flashes of pyrite in some of the stones. It makes an interesting contrast with the lichen."

  "I'm glad you like it, and I'm not going to be that easy to distract, Em. We were talking about you. How about explaining what you have against the idea of love and passion?"

  "It's not something that's quick or easy to explain."

  "You know, if you use real simple words and I concentrate hard, I bet I can understand. I'll give it my best shot, anyway."

  She sent him an apologetic glance. "Okay, I'll try to explain." She walked over to the window, stared out for a moment at the view of the meadow, then turned, wrapping her arms around her waist as if for comfort. "I expect you already know I'm adopted."

  "Yes. Michael mentioned that to me, months ago."

  "Well, according to the adoption agency that placed me with the Suttons, my birth mother was a college student at the University of Texas. That means she was clever enough, and educated enough, to hold down a decent job. It also means that when she discovered she was pregnant with me, she could have found a way to support me if she'd wanted to."

  "You can't know that for sure, Em. I've heard lots of stories about the way adoption agencies lied about the backgrounds of the birth mothers. She could have been in truly desperate straits."

  "That's true, and I've realized for a while now that my mother may not have been the cute college cheerleader the agency tried to pretend." Emily pushed impatiently at a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes. "Maybe she was dying of leukemia or something. I know she wasn't married because the agency only accepted single moms. But whatever the truth about her circumstances, it all boils down to the fact that for the sake of a few minutes of physical gratification, my birth mother created a human being that she didn't want, and didn't care about enough to keep."

  "I know it must be hard to live with the knowledge that your mother couldn't keep you, but I think you're being surprisingly judgmental on the basis of very few facts."

  Emily didn't want to consider the possibility that her attitude was both too harsh and too simplistic. "However you look at it, I was a mistake, an annoying by-product of my mother's sexual desire for some self-absorbed college student. As for my father, he obviously took no interest in me at all. He had an itch. He scratched it. End of story."

  Emily drew in an unsteady breath. "Is it surprising if I don't think sexual desire is worth the possible consequences?"

  Jordan wondered if Emily had any idea how hurt and desolate she sounded. "You can't really know the circumstances your mother faced. The only thing you know for sure is that she cared enough about you not to have an abortion."

  "Which could be for a dozen reasons," Emily said wearily. "Maybe she didn't even realize she was pregnant until it was too late to get rid of me."

  "Could be." Jordan knew Emily wouldn't be consoled if he tried to offer her facile or false comfort. "But if I were you, I'd give your mother the benefit of the doubt. You don't really know whether she gave you up because she didn't want to keep you, or for some other reason entirely. Sometimes the bare facts can hide an awful lot of important information, Em. It could have been a heartbreaking sacrifice for your birth mother to hand you over to the adoption agency."

  "I know." She tried to smile. "I really do know all that, Jordan, at least at some level. And I'm not usually this neurotic, I promise. You seem to have caught me in one of my more self-pitying moods. Anyway, right
or wrong, the facts of my birth have affected how I view marriage and sex and probably a bunch of other stuff, too. I'm not neurotic about sex—"

  She broke off and managed a small grin. "Okay, so I'm just a little bit neurotic about sex. Casual sex, anyway. But I believed with the right man, once I felt really secure, we could have a pretty good marriage. Even the sexual part of it."

  "And you thought Michael was the right man," Jordan said.

  She nodded. "Yes, I did, and the fact that I wasn't deeply, passionately in love with him didn't seem any reason not to accept his proposal. I wanted a marriage based on shared interests and shared goals. We have the same circle of friends. Whatever else you can say about Michael's campaign for governor, he's working hard at it. I admired that dedication to his goal. My parents liked him. I knew they'd be thrilled if I accepted his proposal—"

  "I hope to God you didn't agree to marry Michael to please your parents."

  She sent him a wry smile. "No, not really. At the time he proposed, I thought marrying Michael was exactly what I wanted out of life. Then he got so wrapped up in raising funds for his campaign, and I was so busy organizing our wedding that we scarcely ever saw each other unless there were scads of other people around. Who had time to worry about trivial stuff like whether we actually liked each other? Much less loved each other."

  "Michael must have found the time to think about the relationship," Jordan said.

  "Yes, you're right, otherwise I would be married to him and we wouldn't be having this conversation." Emily gave a laugh that was rich in self-mockery. "How ironic to think that Michael was actually more in touch with his true feelings than I was."

  "I wouldn't say ironic," Jordan said. "I would say it was damn lucky. For all of us."

  CHAPTER TEN