Through the arched entranceway walked the last man she expected here, but one she recognized well even in the dim lighting. Their families had been business rivals for years, a competition that only seemed to increase once Jordan Jefferies had taken over after his father’s death.
So why was Jordan here now?
Brooke forced herself to think more like her siblings and less like her peacemaker self … and the obvious answer came to her. He’d come to her brother Stephen’s hotel to scope out the competition.
Brooke took the unobserved moment to study Jordan Jefferies prowling the room with a lion’s lazy grace. No, wait. Lazy was the wrong word.
Think like her siblings. Jefferies would only want people to perceive a lazy lope so he could pounce while she was otherwise occupied staring at his blond, muscle-bound good looks.
Yeah, she’d noticed his looks more than once. He might be the enemy, but she wasn’t blind. However, she’d considered him off-limits because of the controversy it would cause in her family. Often, she’d heard her oldest brother Parker fume for days over a contentious business meeting with Jordan. The family diplomat, she always tried her best to soothe over arguments and hurt feelings.
For all the good it had done her. The whole Garrison clan had been ripped raw today.
Her mother’s voice whispered again … “The cheating son of a bitch. I’m glad he’s dead.”
The bartender swooped by, breaking her train of thought. “Can I get you anything else, Miss Garrison?”
Garrison. She couldn’t escape it anywhere around here, just as futile as thinking she could keep peace in her family.
Why bother trying?
A heat fired through her veins and bloomed into an idea, a desire. And sure, a need for open rebellion after a day of hell. “Yes, Donald, actually you can do something for me. Please tell the gentleman over there—” she pointed to Jordan “—that his drinks for the evening are on the house.”
“Of course, Miss Garrison.” The bartender smiled discreetly and walked under the rows of hanging glasses to the other side of the wooden bar. He leaned to relay the message and Brooke waited. Her stomach tightened in anticipation.
What would he think of her picking up the tab for his drinks? Likely nothing more than a Garrison acknowledging his presence.
Would Jordan Jefferies even remember her? Of course he would. He was a savvy businessman who would know all the Garrisons. A better question, would he be able to tell her apart from her twin?
He looked from the bartender to her. His gaze met hers, and even in the low lighting she could see the blue of his eyes. Interest sparked in his slow smile.
Jordan picked up his drink and wove his way around the patrons, straight toward her with a deliberate, unhesitating pace. He set his glass beside hers. “I didn’t expect such a nice welcome from a Garrison. Are you sure you didn’t have the bartender poison my drink, Brooke?”
He recognized her. Or a lucky guess?
“How do you know I’m not Brittany?”
Without ever glancing away from her eyes, he reached, stopping an inch shy of touching a lock of her hair that stubbornly refused to stay pulled back. “Because of this. That wayward strand is signature Brooke.”
Wow. He definitely recognized her when even her own father had gotten it wrong sometimes.
In that moment, she realized she had more Garrison determination in her than anyone would have ever suspected. Brooke lifted her glass to Jordan in a silent toast.
She’d seen him many times. She’d always wanted him.
Tonight, her family be damned, she would have him.
One
Present Day
“Merry Christmas, I’m having a baby. Your baby,” Brooke Garrison corrected the phrasing, wanting to get it just right before the father of her child walked through her office door.
Any second now.
She shifted behind her sleek metal desk from where she managed the family’s Sands Condominium Development. She toyed with her hair. Longed for more peppermint ice cream—yes, she’d eaten a scoop with breakfast.
Damn. Time was ticking away faster than the blinking lights on the Christmas tree in the corner of her office, and she still didn’t know the perfect way to tell Jordan about his impending fatherhood.
“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.” She practiced another tact. “The birth control we used apparently failed. Probably when we were in the hot tub.”
Hmm … She shook her head. Bad idea thinking about sharing a bath with Jordan. She swiped back a lock of hair that had slithered free from her French twist. As manager of Sands Condominium Development—a segment of the Garrison family empire—she should be more decisive than this.