Sleeping With the Enemy (10 page)

“Just my lawyer.”

“Why can’t she stay in town? Some of
the state’s best B and Bs are there.”

“I know,” Jay said. “I’m putting the media specialist who’s also coming to this meeting up in one.”

“Jay,” Charlie cried. “I’m in a delicate state here. I’d really prefer not to have to interact with strangers.”

He ignored the tears. Years of her crying wolf had toughened him up to her antics. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the only one ‘interacting’ with
her.” With any luck, most of their interaction tonight would be in the king-sized bed in his bedroom. But Jay wanted Bridgett to meet Charlie, too. Throughout that summer long ago, he’d often imagined what would happen
when the two people he loved the most met. Too bad the years had erased the people that the three of them once were.

“Fine,” Charlie snapped. “But don’t expect me to be nice
to her.”

Linc opened his mouth to add his two cents before wisely thinking better of it. “I have an update, also, when you get a chance,” he said instead.

Obviously, whatever it was, it was something Charlie didn’t need to hear. While he appreciated Lincoln’s circumspection, his jaw tightened in apprehension of what his assistant—and Donovan Carter—had uncovered. “I’ll be right in after
I finish my beer.”

With a nod to Jay, Linc gave Charlie a salute and headed back into the house.

Charlie tsked. “You two are up to no good again. Let me guess: The feminists and the cheerleaders are ganging up on you and burning their bras and pom-poms at Sunday’s game?”

“Funny.” Jay guzzled the remainder of his beer. “Just boring business matters to take care of. We don’t want to
put you to sleep.” He stood from the chair and turned to walk away.

“Jay,” she called. “I really don’t feel up to traveling right now, so I guess I’ll stay for your stupid party.”

Some of the tension he’d been holding in seeped out of his body. He smiled at her. “I’m glad.” He took a few more steps before turning back to her. “Listen, I have meetings in the morning, but maybe tomorrow
we can head down to Stanford and have dinner with Mom?”

Charlie shot from the chair. “Hell, no! I told you I didn’t want Mom to know until I had a plan.”

“It’s just dinner, Charlie. Not true confessions. It’s not like anyone can tell you’re expecting.”

She glanced off into the setting sun and Jay swore at himself when he glimpsed tears in her eyes again. “It would be a lie of omission.”

“Every day you don’t tell her is a lie of omission.”

Her face was tormented when she finally looked at him. “You’re a prick, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse.” He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I don’t even know if Mom is free tomorrow.” He marched toward his office, wondering why the hell he even dealt with his sister or his mother. Or women in general. But then his memory drifted
back to the mind-numbing sex he’d had with Bridgett this morning and a slow grin spread over his face. Sex was the only form of communication he could handle with women. And tonight he and Bridgett would be conversing between the silk sheets upstairs.

Linc was on the phone when Jay strolled into the office. He signaled for Jay to close the door leading to the patio. “It’s Donovan. I’ll put
him on speaker.”

“Please tell me you’ve found this cheerleader, Don,” Jay said as he sat down on the leather sofa across from his desk.

“I wish I could. I really do.” Don sounded as defeated as Jay felt. “I just keep coming up against dead ends everywhere I turn. Even her parents have disappeared. According to the church where her mother works, they’ve gone to Missouri to visit a sick
relative.”

“She hasn’t been on social media since the case was filed a week ago,” Linc added.

“I take it you’re on your way to Missouri,” Jay asked.

Don growled something unintelligible.

“The team doesn’t travel out here until Friday night,” Jay said. “That gives you forty-eight hours to find this woman. I just want to know who’s behind this lawsuit. If it’s just her sister-in-law’s
attempt to finance her own pocketbook, then we’ll deal with it in court. But if it’s something more, I want to be prepared. This ought to be a cakewalk for you, Don. After all, she’s not a hardened criminal.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Don sighed loudly. “Just don’t tell the guys over at NCIS that I’m chasing down cheerleaders, okay?”

Linc laughed. “Good thing your wife works for the team. At least
she can’t take offense to the hunt for the Blaze cheerleader.”

Donovan was married to the team’s public relations director, Asia Dupree. “Actually, she may be of some assistance
when I do find Jennifer Knowles. She’s more likely to open up to Asia than to me.”

“If you’re asking if your wife can join you on your road trip, that’s up to Hank,” Jay said. “But I’ll be sure to tell him your
idea has a lot of merit.”

Linc disconnected and glanced past Jay’s shoulder out toward the pool area.

“Something on your mind, Linc?”

“Just that for a pregnant woman, your sister still looks hot.”

“I’ve been jonesing to punch someone for two days. One more word and it’ll guarantee that it’s you.”

“I just meant that if we’re trying to pin down a time frame for . . . you know
 . . . when she actually got pregnant, it had to be recent. She can still carry off a bikini without being obvious.”

Jay rose slowly from the sofa, but Linc held his ground. “Remember, that’s my baby sister you’re ogling, Linc. Even if it’s under the guise of detective work.”

“Sure, boss.” Linc reached for a folder on the desk. “By the way, according to the PI following her friend Blaine,
he arrived in the area at about noon today. He’s staying with a group of friends over in St. Helena.”

Swearing beneath his breath, Jay took the folder. “Just as long as he stays away from my house.”

“That’s the case list you’ll need for your meeting with the media consultant tomorrow. I took the liberty of making them each their own copy. She’s set to arrive at ten. Is there anything else
you need me to do to get ready for that meeting?”

Jay thumbed through the list of outrageous claims made by women once in his employ—some he’d met, a few he’d slept with, but most he’d never even laid eyes on, much less any other part of his body. But if his hunch was correct, there was one person manipulating those claims. And it was the same person likely behind Jennifer Knowles’s class
action suit and her lawyer’s blackmail threats.

“Yeah.” Jay walked over to his desk, picked up a pen, and
scratched a name on a piece of paper. “I want you to find this person for me.” He handed the paper to his assistant.

Linc eyed the piece of paper before looking up at Jay expectantly. “All I get is a name to go on?”

“Nope,” Jay said as he headed out to find his vineyard manager.
“You’ll find a complete dossier in the file of former employees on the McManus hard drive.” He paused before heading toward the winery. “And, Linc, the sooner you can get me their whereabouts, the better.”

The sun had set nearly an hour before, but Bridgett had no trouble picturing the scenery as the chauffeured car carefully snaked its way through the twists and turns leading to Jay’s vineyard. She’d avoided this area of California for this very reason: It would remind her too much of that summer spent in Italy. The headlights illuminated the rows upon rows of grapes, their rich fragrance
signifying that the harvest was in full swing. The car came around another curve and passed through iron gates. The drive was lined with olive trees, their craggy trunks wide and twisted, indicative of their longevity in the vineyard. Landscape lighting lit up a sprawling house built in the style of an Italian villa, with multiple terraces and alcoves seated behind a circular drive complete
with a fountain in its center.

The driver parked the car at the front door and climbed out. Bridgett wasn’t able to move as quickly. Her stomach bottomed out at the overwhelming beauty of the estate surrounding her.
It wasn’t fair.
How could Jay live in a place so steeped in memories of their summer together while she avoided anything that triggered those thoughts? For the tenth
time in the
last four hours, she cursed Stuart for sending her on this errand.

Her door was opened and she was greeted by the sound of the fountain’s spray mingling with the chorus of crickets and tree frogs. Bridgett looked up, expecting to see the driver; instead her heart nearly stopped in her chest. Jay was standing in the driveway, waiting to help her out of the car. But it wasn’t the cool, buttoned-up
Jay who rode roughshod over the business world and the NFL. This Jay was the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago, looking sexy as hell in his worn jeans, work boots, and a faded Blaze T-shirt.

“Welcome to my vineyard, Bridgett.” He held out his hand to help her out.

Bridgett didn’t dare touch him. Tears burned the backs of her eyes at the very sight of him. He wasn’t supposed
to look this calm and unaffected. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or slug him, and she hated the feeling of being so out of control. It was just that she was exhausted from the long day, she reminded herself. She was here for business, nothing else. Ignoring his hand and the memories of this morning in his jet, she climbed out of the car unaided.

“I told the driver to take me to
the B and B where Mimi is staying,” she snapped, letting her anger serve as a shield between the two of them.

“Mimi got the last room,” he said as he guided her into the lavish two-story foyer.

He was lying; she was sure of it. But when she turned to call him on it, she was stopped by the weariness on his face. Sure, he was dressed as he used to all those years ago, but his face was older,
more wary—harder somehow. She recognized it instantly because she felt the same way, deep in her soul.

“Surely there’s more than one hotel in this area,” she asked with a little less bluster.

A corner of his mouth eased up as if he’d won somehow. “None that would be nearly as accommodating as you deserve.”

No, no, no!
There wasn’t going to be any more “accommodating” or anything else.
She was here for a meeting and
nothing more. All she had to do was remember that Jay was the enemy. That and keep her panties where they belonged.

“Look, it’s been a really long day and I just want a quiet place to get some sleep. If you could just show me to my room now, that would be great.”

He looked as if he might say something else, but then he just nodded. “This is Josie Campos.
She’s in charge of the house. She’ll take you upstairs.”

Embarrassed that she’d likely come off as a total bitch in front of a stranger, Bridgett turned to find a middle-aged woman with caramel eyes and thick dark hair braided to one side standing quietly near the stairs. She wore a denim shirt, khaki pants, and very bright smile. “If you’re on East Coast time, you must be exhausted,” she
said. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”

The room Josie took her to was more like a luxury suite, complete with a huge bed and a sweeping wrought iron balcony overlooking the vineyards. A fluffy robe hung from an antique dress stand in the corner of the room. Directly across from it was a beautiful hand-carved table with a basket of fresh fruit, some nuts, and some chocolates. A small
glass-door fridge held wine as well as bottled water.

“It’s nicer than any hotel in the area,” Josie said proudly.

Bridgett didn’t doubt that. “Yes, I’m sure it is.” She gave the woman a warm smile, hoping to erase her earlier impression.

“The bath is through that door.” Josie pointed to a large ornately carved mahogany door that stood slightly ajar. From what she could see, the bathroom
was huge and as richly appointed as the bedroom. Suddenly, a soak in a hot tub sounded heavenly to Bridgett. “Mr. McManus says you’re a tea drinker. Is there anything else you’d like with breakfast tomorrow?” the housekeeper asked.

She’d have loved a cup of tea right then, but she wanted to be alone with her schizophrenic thoughts even more. Bridgett would make do with a bottle of water and
a bath before bed. “Whatever you have will be perfect. Thank you.”

When Josie left, Bridgett grabbed her toiletries bag from
her suitcase, suddenly remembering Jay’s thoughtfulness in buying her a toothbrush the night before.
And the tea.
That was twice he’d remembered to let his staff know about her preference for tea over coffee. She shook her head fiercely as she reached for the fluffy
robe. He wanted her. Jay had made that clear numerous times this past week. These weren’t small gestures from a man who cared about her heart. It was the rest of her body he was after.

Ten minutes later, having lit the numerous votive candles surrounding the soaking tub, she sank into the warm bubbly water, rested her head back against the neck roll, and closed her eyes. It had already been
a twenty-hour day—and she’d felt every minute of it. The sound of a cork leaving a bottle brought her back to her senses.

“You’re awake.” Jay stood at one end of the bathroom where he poured white wine into a glass.

“I most certainly am,” she hissed. “And have you ever heard of knocking?”

Ignoring her, he ambled over to the tub handing her the glass. “Try it. I’m eager to get your
opinion.”

“Jay! Do you accost all your guests this way?”

He had the audacity to wink at her. “Not the men.” Jay pushed the glass farther toward her. “Take it, Bridgett. I think you’ll like it.”

Fuming, she took the wine from his outstretched hand. “Fine, but only if you promise to leave.”

With a sly grin, he poured himself a glass and leaned a hip against one of the marble countertops,
in no hurry to quit the room. Still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, he’d removed his work boots. The image of Jay standing in his bare feet a yard away from where she sat naked in the soapy water felt very intimate. And erotic. She wanted to hurl the wine at him.

“How’s your sister,” he asked. The sincerity in his voice confused her already frustrated body even more.

Bridgett sighed.
“It’ll be a bumpy ride, but she’ll be fine.” Begrudgingly she took a sip of wine, hoping it would speed his exit. The white was cool and crisp on her tongue. Its full-
bodied flavor was fruity and refreshingly creamy when she swallowed. “Pinot grigio,” she murmured as her eyes slid closed again. The wine had been their favorite all those years ago. “It’s very good,” she said before taking another
sip.

“Hmm,” he agreed. “This is our initial foray in producing the Alsace style. Our first few years, we concentrated on the lighter, less aromatic, lower-alcohol pinots. They’re extremely popular here in the United States. But I wanted the richer, more alcoholic version, like the French drink. I think with some decent promotion, it can be just as trendy as the other pinots.”

Bridgett
glared at him. “So you can get women drunk in the bathtub and seduce them?”

He laughed, damn him. “I think we proved this morning that I don’t have to get you drunk.” Setting down his wineglass, he reached over his shoulder and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion.

She hid her gasp behind another sip of the delicious wine. “You are not getting into this tub with me,” she declared even
though her thighs trembled at the prospect. The tub was large enough to accommodate them both comfortably.

“I’ve been out in the field for the last several hours,” he said. “I don’t think you’d appreciate my sweaty body in the tub with you.”

Bridgett tried to summon up some gratitude that he wasn’t going to be joining her bath, but the effort became short-lived when she saw him head for
the glass enclosure housing the large massage shower.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Again with the obvious questions, counselor?”

“Go take a shower in your own bathroom, Jay.” Realization hit her as soon as the words left her mouth. This
was
his bathroom.
Double damn.
She watched as his mouth turned up in a seductive, assured grin. “I’m not
sleeping with you in that bed,” she said, her voice hoarse. She told herself the disappointment she felt was only because she wouldn’t be sleeping in the beautiful bedroom.

“Finish your bath and your wine, Bridgett. We can negotiate the sleeping arrangements after my shower.” He was infuriatingly arrogant.

“That is so not gonna—”

She was interrupted by a loud crash from somewhere outside
the open veranda door. Jay moved quickly through the bedroom as Bridgett heard laugher coming from outside—both a woman’s and a man’s. A string of profanity rolled off Jay’s lips as he sprinted out of the bedroom calling for his assistant, Lincoln.

Bridgett climbed out of the tub and pulled on the robe, tying it securely at her waist just as more commotion from outside drifted through the
open door. She made her way outside onto the terrace where she could see a gorgeous pool lit up by dim lights. Suddenly Jay appeared to tackle a man standing in the shadows. A woman screamed.

“Jay! Stop it! You’ll hurt him!”

She cringed as she heard some grunting and the sound of fist meeting bone before Linc’s voice entered the fray.

“Boss, don’t kill him. Let the cops handle this.”

“Kill him? Cops?” The woman’s voice was shrill in the dark night. “Jay, leave him alone! I invited him here.”

The skirmish had stopped. Bridgett could hear the heavy breathing of both men.

“Does he have the right to be here, Charlie?” Jay asked, his tone lethal. “Does he?”

Bridgett didn’t understand Jay’s question or the charged silence that followed.

“No!” Charlie finally yelled,
the word coming out on a defeated-sounding sob.

She heard hushed voices and the sound of shoes crunching on the gravel.

“Do you really think drinking is wise right now, Charlie?” Jay eventually asked.

“For your information, jerk-off, I
wasn’t
drinking. I was just giving Blaine a tasting.”

Jay muttered something Bridgett had trouble deciphering
due to the distance. It was something
about the vineyard being private property.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that my friends aren’t welcome here,” Charlie shouted. “I should have just gone to Carmel to my own house. I don’t need you playing chaperone for me or my baby!”

Oh my.

•   •   •

“What was I supposed to think, Charlie?” Jay stood with his tender fists clenched on his hips, staring down his sister. Tears of
rage were streaming down her cheeks. “There was a strange guy drinking my wine beside my pool at night.”

“Oh, come on, Jay,” Charlie cried. “You’ve been angling to punch some guy out about my pregnancy since the moment I told you. Blaine just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“No, he was in the wrong place. Why is he here? Did he follow you from Baltimore?” Jay’s head
was aching as badly as his fists right now. “Did you ask him to? If he’s not the father, then who is he to you? The guy’s a freaking weed dealer, Charlie.”

“That’s not fair! He doesn’t actually sell the stuff himself.”

Jay didn’t bother responding to her. If the dickhead sold marijuana—even legally—he most likely used it and he didn’t want to hear Charlie defend Blaine with more lies.
Nor did he want his unborn niece or nephew exposed to drugs. “I may not know a lot about prenatal care, but I’m pretty sure cannabis isn’t on the recommended diet.”

Charlie staggered back as though he’d actually hit her, too.

Linc emerged from the shadows. “He won’t be back.”

“Ohmigod! What did you do to him?” Charlie pulled out her cell phone, presumably to call Blaine the Pain.

“Go to bed, Charlie,” Jay said as he began walking back toward the house. “You need your rest.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that? And I’m not going to
bed! I am so
not
sleeping in this house.” Charlie all but stomped her foot. “I’m leaving.”

Jay’s gut told him she wouldn’t leave. Charlie had sought him out for some reason. His instincts told him to wait her out. Hell, it was likely
his little sister didn’t even know the reason she was here herself yet. But she wouldn’t take off. Of that he was reasonably sure. Calling her bluff, he continued on toward the house, exchanging a quick glance with Linc. By some slim chance Jay was wrong, he’d have his assistant keep tabs on Charlie. Linc let out an exasperated sigh before nodding his acquiescence to Jay’s nonverbal order.

When he made it back to his suite, he was relieved to see that Bridgett hadn’t decamped to another room in the house. Wrapped in the fluffy bathrobe, she was seated in one of the wingback chairs with her bare feet tucked beneath her, her glass of wine in her hand. Jay didn’t bother speaking—he had no doubt Bridgett had overheard everything. Instead he headed directly for the bathroom and that shower
he needed. He was rinsing his bruised knuckles under cold water when she followed him in with a towel filled with ice.

Taking his right hand between her two smaller ones, she laid the ice pack over top. She kept her eyes on her task while she spoke. “So, Princess Charlotte is pregnant.”