JACOB'S PROPOSAL Read online

"No. I was pointing out that we aren't on the clock yet. If we were, it would be inappropriate for me to tell you how desirable I find you."

  "You're out of line."

  "Even in these days of political correctness," Jacob said, "surely a man can indicate his interest in a beautiful woman, as long as he's willing to accept a refusal. You don't look like a woman who would have trouble saying no … if that's what you want to say."

  There was a tiny crease between Claire's eyebrows. "I'm not. And 'no' is definitely the answer."

  She didn't look as if she believed it would be that simple. Michael knew it wouldn't. He pushed his chair back, letting it scrape loudly enough to interrupt the staring match the other two were engaged in. "I'd better be going if I don't want to risk a speeding ticket. Walk with me to my car, Jacob?"

  Jacob's eyes met his. For a moment, Michael thought his big brother would refuse – and he knew why. He grinned.

  Jacob sighed. "All right. At least the damned rain has stopped."

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  «^»

  Jacob was in no mood for an interrogation. He would have made some excuse to avoid walking Michael to his car if he'd thought he could get away with it, but he knew his brother. Once the light of curiosity was fixed in Michael's eyes, there was no turning him aside. That curiosity had nearly gotten him killed more than once, a fact that troubled Jacob a good deal more than it did Michael.

  He was more or less resigned to his fate when he opened the kitchen door and stepped out into a damp, sunny morning. After a couple of blessedly dry days, it had showered again last night.

  Their grandfather had built his mansion with his gaze fixed firmly on the past, setting the garage behind the house like a carriage house from the last century. A gravel path led the way through the boxwood and yew border that screened the building from view.

  "How's your head this morning?" Jacob asked.

  "As unhappy as my stomach."

  "If you'd drink something other than that rotgut you were guzzling, you might not have a hangover."

  "But I have such a delicate constitution."

  Amusement lightened Jacob's mood. "Mighty gentle flowers they grow in Special Forces."

  Michael grinned, but didn't reply. Their feet crunched on the gravel. Water dripped silently from trees to bushes to ground, the drops gemmed by sunshine, and the sky was a bold, clear blue – the color of childhood, to Jacob. Of solitude and freedom.

  When Michael spoke again, his voice was carefully casual. "You'll get my prenuptial agreement tucked away safely?"

  When Michael had turned up unexpectedly last night, he'd announced that he was getting married and getting drunk – not in that order. The marriage would take place as soon as he got back from his current assignment.

  "I'll take care of it. I wish you'd reconsider, though. I'm not looking forward to having a piranha for a sister-in-law."

  Michael shrugged. "You won't have to put up with her long. There are a few things you forgot to mention last night, weren't there?"

  "As I recall, we spoke mostly of your unwanted bride."

  "We talked about marriage. The one I'm planning, and the delay with yours, now that Maggie turned you down. You didn't mention that you've already got her replacement picked out and under siege."

  "We don't have time to be choosy." It was an accurate statement as far as it went, but he was grimly certain Michael wouldn't be satisfied with it. His youngest brother could be damnably perceptive at times.

  "You've always been choosy. Take your new assistant – a very choice specimen. In fact, she may be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

  "Beauty is a subjective judgment, though, isn't it?"

  "I suppose a male kangaroo or orangutan might not find Claire beautiful. But a man would. Any man. No doubt the man she's living with thinks she's incredibly beautiful."

  Jacob stopped. "She's not living with a man."

  "Did she tell you that?" Michael shook his head. "I didn't think a cynic like you would accept a woman at her word."

  "I know damned well she isn't living with anyone. Adam North handled the background check himself. He's thorough."

  Michael stared at him a moment, then started to laugh. "You had your prospective bride investigated?"

  "Of course."

  "Of course," Michael said, lightly mocking. "'All policy is allowed in war and love,' I suppose. Which are you embarked on, Jacob – love or war?"

  "Business. That sounded suspiciously like poetry."

  "Some eighteenth-century playwright, I think. Sorry. St. Vincent's influence lingers like cheap perfume. Tell me, did you have him run a background check when you hired her, or after you decided to have her?"

  "I prefer to have as many facts as possible before entering into any agreement. Marriage is as potentially treacherous as any other partnership, and I don't know Claire as well as I knew Maggie."

  "True. Which makes me wonder … you seem to have given up on getting Maggie to marry you pretty easily."

  "I haven't abandoned my goal. I've simply changed one element."

  "The identity of the bride, you mean?"

  This conversation was beginning to irritate Jacob. "What made you think someone was living with Claire?"

  "Shameless eavesdropping. Her door was open when I came down the hall, and I caught the last part of a conversation she was having with someone named Danny. I didn't catch a last name." He paused. "From things she said about some repairs, it was obvious he's living in her house. Or else she's been living in his."

  Jacob's mind sorted through the data in the report he'd been reading when Michael arrived last night. "Danny is her cousin. They're close. He probably needed a place to stay, since he's out of work more often than he's employed." Was Danny important to her? It seemed likely. Jacob considered what that might mean to his plans. The way to succeed in any deal was to learn what the other person wanted badly enough to give up what you wanted in return.

  "Sometimes cousins are too close."

  Jacob's mouth crooked up. "Who's being cynical now?"

  "Cynicism is one legacy from our father we don't have to wait to claim."

  Memories of Randolph West always conjured mixed feelings. "True. I still hope to avoid part of his legacy, however."

  Michael grimaced. "Yeah. Which is why I wasn't surprised you picked Maggie. You aren't as resistant to the married state as Luke and me, and Maggie is pretty much the type you would settle on. She's not the sort to tie a man into knots. Claire McGuire, though, surprises the hell out of me."

  "You don't think I'm as susceptible to beauty as the next man?"

  "Her looks are more complication than explanation. Why her, Jacob?"

  Why, indeed?

  She was kind. He hadn't expected that. It was the sort of kindness that rose naturally from a warm heart, brimming over onto those around her, charming without the intention to charm. Cosmo had been won over within moments of meeting her, not because she was beautiful – that could have caused all sorts of problems – but because she simply, sincerely, liked him. Accepted him, tattoos, prison record and all.

  She liked and enjoyed Ada, too. What was more, Ada liked her, and Ada was a harder nut to crack than Cosmo. And she smiled at Jacob's jokes. That could have been courtesy or tact, but most people didn't even know when he was joking. She did.

  Was that why he wanted her? Because she was kind, and laughed at his jokes? Banal, but true – yet not the whole truth. The moment he'd seen Claire, he'd known he would do everything he could to make her his.

  He had no idea why. Jacob started walking again. "Why not her? Come on. You don't want to miss your plane."

  The garage was a large brick building that smelled pleasantly of metal, oil and gasoline. Jacob had expanded it after their father died. He'd wanted to have spaces for his brothers' vehicles when they visited, because this was their home, too. There were four cars housed there now – three of Jacob's, plus Michael's aging Jaguar. J
acob had rebuilt the engine, then given him the car when he turned seventeen, a combination birthday present and bribe for sticking it out for the six months at the military academy where he'd been banished.

  After that first six months, no bribes had been necessary. Michael had shocked everyone by thriving on the life.

  "The Jag running okay?" Jacob asked.

  "Purrs like a kitten." Michael opened the door.

  "I don't suppose you can tell me where you're going this time."

  "Afraid not. You've got the number to call in case of emergency."

  "Yes."

  Michael settled into the low-slung car, then paused, looking up at Jacob. "Did you notice that watch she has on?"

  He frowned. "Claire's watch? What about it?"

  "Why isn't it a Rolex? Or something with diamonds that costs as much as my car? A woman like her could have diamonds if she wanted them."

  "Our experiences to the contrary, not all women can be bought. At least, not with money." He had some ideas about what Claire wanted. Tonight he'd find out if those ideas were accurate. "You'd better go before you miss your plane."

  "I suppose so." He started the car.

  "Michael." A familiar mix of anxiety and frustration clutched at Jacob. He couldn't keep his brother from doing what he needed to do. He wouldn't try. But it was always hard to let him go off and risk himself. "Be careful, will you?"

  "I will if you will."

  "I'm always careful."

  Michael grinned. "The funny thing is, you probably believe that."

  * * *

  "I understand you met Sonia at Helping Hands." Ada plunged a frying pan into soapy water.

  "Yes, we both volunteer there." Claire tied the apron around her waist. This was the first time Ada had taken her up on her usual offer to help with the dishes. She had a feeling the tart, tiny woman had something she wanted to discuss. "Sonia's one of the reasons I started my own consulting business, actually. She kept urging me to try it. Finally I did."

  "Hmm." Ada scrubbed the pot firmly. "Guess her contacts haven't hurt you any."

  "I wouldn't have done as well as I have without her. She's steered several clients my way."

  "You worked with her long at that Helping Hands place?"

  "About three years. She was my trainer on the hot line." Claire accepted the pan from her interrogator and started drying it.

  "Funny that she didn't tell you about Cosmo. She never said much to me about you, either."

  "Sonia's always claimed she's allergic to gossip. We usually talk about business matters in general, her daughter, or what she thinks I should be doing with my life." Claire smiled, remembering the gentle, ceaseless nagging she'd received to quit her job at the bank. "And about Helping Hands, of course."

  "Don't think I could handle that hot line stuff," Ada said, handing her another pan. "I'd give the wrong kind of advice. If you ask me, anyone who likes to beat up on his wife and kids ought to be taken out and shot."

  "Sometimes I feel that way, too. But violence doesn't solve the problem."

  "It's damned tempting, though. If someone had taken a gun to Jacob's grandfather, a lot of lives would have been different. Better. Here, go wipe off the table while I get the dishwasher going. We're done with the pans."

  Claire took the sponge Ada held out, but she didn't move, shocked as much by the fact of Ada's revelation as by its implications. Though Ada had been free with stories about "the boys," she'd never revealed anything truly personal. "Jacob's grandfather beat him?"

  "Not him. If the old man had touched one hair of Jacob's head, Randolph West would have killed him. And he made sure his father knew it." Ada nodded firmly. "The old man died just after Luke was born, so the younger boys were never in any danger. But there was no one around to protect Randolph when he was little. To the day he died, he had scars from a whipping he got when he was ten. He'd swiped a cookie."

  Claire shook her head. "I've heard plenty of stories like that since I started working the hot line, but it still gets me in the pit of the stomach when I hear a new one. I can't get used to it."

  "You aren't supposed to. You going to clean the table or not?"

  Obediently Claire turned away to do as she'd been bidden. "I'm wondering why you told me all that."

  Ada chuckled. "Don't pretend you haven't been trying to pump me for information about Jacob all week."

  "I've tried," she admitted dryly. "And you've dodged every personal question I've snuck into the conversation. Until now."

  "So maybe I changed my mind. He seems to like you." She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Jacob's a good man, strong and honorable. But he isn't an easy man, not to know or to live with."

  "I'm curious about him because he's my employer," Claire said firmly. "And, I suppose, because I'm nosy. And that's all."

  Ada's expression was more of a smirk than a smile. "Of course. I just wanted you to understand. Randolph had his problems as a father – one of them being that every one of the West males could teach stubborn to a mule. But he loved his boys. When Jacob tells you about his childhood, you need to remember that."

  "Jacob doesn't talk about his childhood," Claire protested. "We don't have that kind of relationship."

  She snorted. "He's telling you all the time. You just aren't listening right."

  * * *

  Claire couldn't imagine Jacob West opening up to anyone about the trials and traumas of his childhood. Oh, she knew what Ada meant – that he revealed himself in other ways. And he did, but the glimpses she'd had of her enigmatic boss the past few days seemed to add up to several different men. Who was Jacob West, really? The casually friendly man she'd seen at breakfast? The predator she thought she saw sometimes? The cool, emotionless businessman the world believed him to be? Or the difficult, wounded man Ada had hinted at?

  Damn him, anyway, for being so mysterious, she thought as she snatched a bite from a turkey sandwich between phone calls. She didn't need a brilliant, inscrutable man in her life. Not as a boss, and certainly not as anything else. Even if she did get a hormonal buzz from being in the same room with him.

  Especially because of that.

  Oh, but he was exactly the sort of man she'd have tumbled for in her wild and woolly days. Back then, she'd have fallen into his arms and into his bed, laughing at the thrill of it, and never doubted her ability to take care of herself and her heart. She knew better now. But for the first time in years, it was hard to ignore her unruly instincts.

  It didn't help that she liked the blasted man.

  Fortunately she had plenty to keep her mind occupied. Her boss had dropped yet another thick folder on her desk that morning – an in-depth financial report on a key investor in the Stellar Security takeover. "I want to know where his money is," he'd said. "And if there's any missing."

  This was the sort of work Claire loved – economic detective work. It appealed to the hunter in her, and to the tidy woman who arranged the clothes in her closet by color, season and style. She was between phone calls, mainlining calories in the form of chocolate kisses while she tracked down a discrepancy in Murchison's financial statement, when a freight train rumbled up to her desk. And spoke.

  "Refined sugar is bad for you," said a deep, deep bass voice. "Poisons the body, weakens the immune system."

  She looked up and smiled. "I won't ask if you want a kiss, then."

  Cosmo Penopolous was her height and roughly three times as broad, and every bit of that breadth was muscle. He had Groucho Marx eyebrows, a bandit's mustache and a fondness for jewelry that could be implanted in his body. Both ears were double-pierced; there was a gold ring in his nose, and another in his left eyebrow. A tattoo crawled up one thick forearm.

  And he blushed. Easily. Color flooded his face now, darkening his already swarthy complexion. "I didn't mean … we have to live in our bodies, right? It makes sense to keep them strong and healthy."

  She'd figured out within minutes of meeting Cosmo that he was religious about fi
tness and nutrition. Instead of fielding passes, she'd had to field offers to help her build muscle tone. "I'm sure that's true."

  "So when are you going to let me get you started on some weight training? Jacob won't mind if we use the gym. The boss man likes to have it to himself between six and seven in the morning, but any other time is fine. Just let me know."

  "I don't think weight training is for me," she said apologetically. "I don't really want to bulk up."

  "You don't have to. That's the beauty of it. You can add bulk or slim down, get stronger, build endurance – whatever you want. Depends on how you do it." He beamed at her, happy as a missionary with a possible convert. "Here, I'll show you."

  Ten minutes later, he was sitting on her desk after showing her the proper way to do bicep curls, using her stapler in lieu of a weight. "I'm not certified, but I'm working on it. This, see, it's my passion – making the most of our bodies. Everyone should have a passion, right?"

  She cocked her head curiously. "How did you end up a secretary if your real love is fitness?"

  "I like secretarial work, too. It's … neat. I like things neat." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Didn't always. I took some wrong turns, but that's how we learn, right? Screw up often enough and you either get smart, or you get dead. Me, I got to where I liked things orderly." His sudden grin looked ferocious beneath that mustache. "Learned how to type, too."

  Cosmo had learned how to type while doing three-to-five for grand theft, she'd learned on her second day here. "And came to work for Jacob."

  He leaned forward. "I owe him a lot. Gonna owe him even more when I open my gym, but that's money. That I can pay back. I'm not ready to go into business yet, but in a year or so, you'll see. Jacob said—"

  "Taking my name in vain, Cosmo?"

  Jacob stood in the doorway, all cool control, one eyebrow lifted. A prickle of awareness danced over her skin, and heat swam like sunshine in her blood.

  Why did this have to happen to her now?

  Cosmo made a low, rumbling noise – his laugh. "I may curse you sometimes, boss man, but I don't curse by you. You need something?"