Sentimental Journey (12 page)

"I gave you that necklace with feeling," he said in a growling underbreath. "Why can't you put
some feeling in accepting it?"

"I tried." Her answer was stiff as her body.

"You damned sure haven't tried hard enough."

He hauled her against his chest. "It can be done without words."

His fingers wound into a handful of honey gold hair and forced her head back. The iron band of his arm crushed her ribs, denying her breath, while his mouth brutally smothered her lips. Jessica was caught in the dangerous whirlpool of his savage aggression.

She had angered him, aroused latent instincts from his childhood where survival and power went to the strongest. Despite the violence of his possession, her hammering heart was reacting to the indomitable force of his virility. She trembled at its power.

The sensuality of his kiss changed from punishment to passion. The iron bars of his imprisoning embrace became gloved in velvet, firm hands stroking her skin. Jessica experienced the exquisite joy of being mastered and responded to it. Then Brodie dragged his mouth from her lips to the pleasure spot behind her earlobe.

"We have so little time," he said in a groaning mutter, his breath hot and disturbing against her skin. "Do you want the necklace, Jessica?"

"Yes." She wanted anything from him—his anger, his kiss, his love.

It was a devastating discovery and she closed her eyes to hide it from him when he lifted his head. Her own was still tipped back, held there gently by the male fingers twined in her hair.

"Will you wear it tonight? Here?" His mouth located the hollow at the base of her throat.

"Yes," Jessica agreed, inhaling the earthy smell of him.

Brodie unwrapped his arms from around her and took the case from her hand. Snapping open the lid, he removed the necklace and Jessica watched the sparkle of the diamond come toward her. Obligingly, she lifted the curling length of hair at the back of her head so Brodie could fasten the gold chain. Her skin tingled at the feather-light touch of his fingers.

When he took his hands away, she fingered the chain and the hard diamond nestled against her throat. Brodie turned her around so she could see herself in the wall mirror, but Jessica barely glanced at her own reflection before her eyes were drawn, to his. He stood behind her, so tall and darkly compelling.

"It's beautiful," she told him. "I do like it."

"Do you?" The slant of his mouth was cynical in its mockery of her statement. "I much prefer your actions to your words. They're more convincing."

The sweep of his inspecting gaze made Jessica aware of her mussed hair and her mouth kissed free of any lipstick. She hardly resembled the poised, sophisticated woman Brodie had seen on arrival.

"You'd better go and fix yourself or the others will he guessing why we're late," Brodie taunted.

"The others?" Jessica echoed.

"Yes, that's my bad news for tonight. We won't be dining alone." He moved away from the mirror and Jessica turned to watch him.

"We're going to Janson's for dinner."

"You said others." That sounds like more than two."

He lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the air. "I imagine there'll be a dozen in all—Janson, his attorney, mine, my accountant, Janson's son."

"It sounds like a board meeting," Jessica commented.

"In a sense, it is." His mouth quirked. "Janson has been hounding me to come to his house for dinner, meet his wife, his family. There were a few details to iron out regarding the company. I combined business with a social obligation so I can have both of them out of
the way at the same time."

"Actually you're ridding yourself of three obligations. You forgot me." Jessica smiled, but there was disappointment in knowing they would not be alone tonight.

"You're not an obligation, Jessica." He eyed her steadily, a faint grimness in his look. "When all this came up, I refused to deprive myself of the pleasure of seeing you again. I wanted to be with you…in the company of others if it couldn't be alone."

A searing pleasure coursed through her, sweetening the taste of disappointment. "I…" The admission Jessica had been about to make suddenly made her tongue-tied, so she changed her response. "I'll only be a few minutes."

With her makeup freshened, her hair brushed into its style, and a silk shawl around her shoulders, she left the apartment with Brodie. On the way to the Janson home she remembered to relay her uncle's message, which drew a muttered exclamation of impatience from Brodie followed by silence.

The Janson home was a massive two-story structure with a porticoed entrance. Their host was at the door to welcome them and inform them that they were the last to arrive. As they were led into a formal living room, Jessica discovered she was nervous over the prospect of meeting Brodie's close associates.

Brodie made the introductions. Jessica shook hands with Drew Mitchell, a lean good-looking man who was Brodie's legal adviser, and his wife, Marian. Next was a balding man with black-rimmed glasses and a perpetually serious expression—Cliff Hadley, Brodie's financial consultant. After that was Janson's attorney, a smooth Southern gentleman named Lee Cantrel. His wife, Rachel, was an acquaintance of Jessica's, and several years older than she was. Finally there were young Cal Janson and his wife, Sue, and their hostess, Emily Janson.

When the introductions were completed, Cal Janson slapped Brodie on the shoulder. "It's time for a drink. I know you're a bourbon man, Brodie. How about the little lady here?"

"Sherry, please," Jessica ordered, knowing the older gentleman would be shocked if she asked for anything stronger.

Almost immediately the gathering became segregated into two groups: male and female. Brodie was off in the corner of the room with the men and Jessica was drawn into the circle of women.

"How are your parents?" Emily Janson inquired. "The community was so sorry to lose them when they sold their home and retired to Florida."

"They wanted to be near their grandchildren," Jessica explained politely.

"Of course, the climate there is marvelous. Cal and I usually spend a month or two there in the winter, but I could never persuade him to leave these Tennessee hills permanently."

The inconsequential chatter began, with Emily Janson portraying the perfect hostess, drawing each of the women into the conversation and leaving no one out. A short time later the dinner was served. Jessica found herself seated on the opposite side and at the opposite end
of the table from Brodie.

She remembered, with irony, his comment that he hadn't wanted to deprive himself of the pleasure of seeing her. That was about all he was doing. Her gaze slid down the table to him. He was listening intently to something his attorney was saying in low tones. Jessica watched him rub his forehead, concentrating on the spot between his dark brows. But he didn't glance her way. She hadn't noticed him looking at her, so he hadn't been "seeing" much of her, either.

"How is Jordanna?" Rachel Cantrel inquired, sitting opposite Jessica at the long, formal dining table. "Are she and Tom still getting along together, or has the honeymoon finally ended?"

"Jordanna and Tom are very happy," Jessica answered calmly, but she was fiercely aware that the mention of her sister's name had drawn Brodie's attention when her presence hadn't.

The meal became an ordeal, the excellently prepared food tasting like chalk to Jessica. If her hostess noticed her lack of appetite, Emily Janson was too polite to comment on it.

After dinner, it was back into the living room for coffee and liqueurs. Again the men secluded themselves on one side of the room, embroiled in a business discussion, while the women sat on the opposite side.

Jessica sat on the plush sofa, a china cup and saucer, balanced in her hand. From the sofa she could watch the men. Brodie rarely did any of the talking, his bland expression revealing none of his thoughts. Two or three times she noticed him briefly rub that one spot on his forehead. The gesture seemed to indicate that something serious was troubling him.

"Have you known Brodie long?" A voice inquired beside her.

Aware that she had been caught staring at him, Jessica turned to the woman seated on the sofa beside her. It was Marian Mitchell, the wife of Brodie's attorney.

"No, not very long," she admitted, and shifted the subject to the other woman. "Are you from here?"

"Gracious, no," the woman laughed. "We live in Richmond—or we do when we're there, which is seldom. Since Drew started working with Brodie our home has become some place we used to live,"

"How long has your husband worked for Brodie?"

"He's started his sixth year. I stopped counting how many airports we'd been in a long time ago or which hotels we'd stayed at." But Marian Mitchell didn't seem to be complaining.

"Don't you mind?" Jessica was curious.

"Drew loves working for Brodie. He enjoys the excitement, the feeling of never knowing what's going to happen next. The first three months I stayed home and saw Drew for a total of forty-eight hours. Our phone bill rivaled the National War Debt! I decided that I had a choice of living the life of a widow or packing my clothes and going with him. I've never regretted my decision to travel with him."

"Excuse me," Sue Janson interrupted their conversation. "It was very nice meeting both of you."

"Are you leaving?" Marian glanced up in surprise.

"Yes, we promised the sitter we would have her home by eleven, and it's after ten now," the young woman explained.

She said her goodbyes and entered the circle of men. It was several minutes before she was able to persuade her husband that they had to leave.

His departure made little impression on the other men, except as an unwanted interruption to their discussion. Emily Janson brought more fresh coffee.

Chapter Eight

IT WAS AFTER ELEVEN. The four women had run out of small talk, but the men showed no signs of letting up. Jessica was quite certain they had forgotten they were in the room.

Marian Mitchell smothered a yawn with her hand and glanced at Jessica, Rachel Cantrel and their hostess. "This meeting will last until the wee hours of the morning—I've been through this before. Excuse me."

She walked to her husband, whispered something in his ear, and waited. Drew cast her an apologetic smile, then engaged in a hurried discussion with the others. Some sort of decision must have been reached, because Brodie separated himself from the group and walked over to where Jessica was seated.

He held out his hand for her to join him and nodded politely to the other two women. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course," Emily Janson said with a smile.

Jessica's hand felt cold in the warm clasp of his as he led her into the large foyer. There was an absent look about him that said, even though he was with her, his thoughts were elsewhere. In the entry hall, he stopped.

"Drew is phoning for a cab to take Marian back to the hotel. I know you're tired and have to be at work in the morning. I don't know what time this meeting will break up, so I've asked Drew to arrange for the cab to take you home after it's dropped Marian at their hotel," Brodie informed her in crisply businesslike tones.

"That's very thoughtful of you," said Jessica, trying not to be offended that he was arranging to dispose of her like an inconvenience.

The touch of dryness in her voice narrowed his gaze. "I had no idea this was going to come up when I asked you to come with me this evening."

"I know that," she admitted. "And I know it must be very important to you."

"I'd take you home myself, but
—"

"I quite understand, Brodie," Jessica interrupted.

His gaze flickered impatiently toward the living room. They still were in full view of the others, although their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"Do you understand?"
he growled.

His hand closed roughly on her arm as he pushed her away from the living-room doorway. Seconds later she was backed up against a bare wall. Brodie leaned against her, an arm resting against the wall above her head, a hand cupping the side of her face. The crushing imprint of his body left her in no doubt of his true desire at the moment.

"Do you understand that all I want to do is make love to you?" Brodie demanded before his mouth bruised her lips against her teeth.

Jessica was only allowed to answer by deed, returning the frustrated ardor of his kiss. Her hands explored his jaw and the column of his throat, nails digging into his shoulders. He rained angry kisses on her nose, cheek and ears.

"The problems aren't just mine," he explained, his voice muffled by her hair. "If they were, I'd say to hell with them. But it's those men in there. They have invested their time and talent in this project. I can't tell them to wait until I feel like handling the situation."

"I understand," she repeated, and she did, more fully this time.

"Hey, Brodie? Where are you?" Drew Mitchell called from the living room.

Brodie levered-himself away from the wall and Jessica. A mask of control slipped over his features, changing his image from one of a passionate lover to a cool, poker-faced gambler. His indifferent blue gaze flicked to Jessica as if to be certain she was regaining control of herself. She had straightened from the wall. Brodie turned to the doorway.