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He would call her back and confirm dinner after his shower—a shower he needed to calm his overheated body. At this point whether he was hot from anger or sexual frustration he wasn't sure. All he knew at the moment was that one part of him wanted to put his hands around Jasmine's neck while another part of him wanted to put his hands on other parts of her.
A few minutes later he was stepping inside the shower stall and under the spray of cold water in an effort to quell the sexual tension and anger that had overtaken him most of the evening. Since getting home, nothing he'd done had helped him to relax.
Warning bells went off in his head. No woman had ever affected him this way and he didn't like it worth a damn. By the time he had finished his shower and dried off, he decided he would spend a quiet evening at home reading. He was determined not to indulge in foolish fantasies like he'd done the night before.
Drawing in a calming breath he walked downstairs. He'd eaten dinner, but there was another hunger deep within him. He needed to get a firm grip or he was going to be in serious trouble.
He was about to walk outside on the terrace when he heard the doorbell. Remembering he had left his security gate unlocked, he figured his visitor was probably Jake. He made his way to the door and opened it to find Abraham Danforth standing there instead.
"Abraham, come in," Wesley greeted, smiling. He'd always had deep respect and admiration for Abraham Danforth and knew that his political aspirations were genuine and sincere.
Wesley knew that Abraham truly loved his children, but he also acknowledged that following the death of Abraham's wife in an automobile accident, the young widower had felt unable to give them the care they needed. Ian had told him that Abraham had sent them all off to boarding schools. He knew that Ian still held a lot of resentment regarding his childhood years of having to spend much of his youth trying to impress his father and feeling that he had failed to do so.
"Hi, Wes, I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"No, not at all," Wesley said. From the first time he had met Abraham, he'd always seen the same depth of kindness and caring in Abraham's blue eyes that was always there in his brother Harold's. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked.
Abraham shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I got a message that you wanted to see me. I just got back from a short trip to Atlanta."
Wesley nodded. "I was wondering if you've received any more threatening e-mails?"
A few months ago, three separate e-mails had been sent to Abraham through his computer. Each had contained a cryptic message and had been signed "Lady Savannah."
The first e-mail had read, "I've been watching you." The second, "I'm still watching you." The last e-mail that had read, "Expect the unexpected. This isn't over," and had contained a virus that had wiped out Abraham's entire computer system. Because of the signature, everyone was assuming the person who had sent the e-mails was a woman and was wondering why she was targeting Abraham. The only people who knew about the e-mails were members of the Danforth family and they intended to keep it that way. The last thing they wanted was for the information to get leaked to the media. He could just imagine what Jasmine would do with information like that at her disposal. Abraham had hired a security specialist to secretly work on the case by the name of Michael Whittaker.
Abraham shook his head. "No, not since the last one that crashed my computer. I'm glad you were able to repair it for me."
"I was glad to do it," Wesley stated, leaning against his closed door.
The older man studied Wesley for a few moments then asked, "Is that all you had to talk to me about, Wes? For some reason I think there's more."
Wesley smiled. Just like Harold, Abraham could read him like a book at times. "Yes, there is something else. A woman by the name of Jasmine Carmody. I'm sure you probably know her by now."
Abraham chuckled as he nodded. "Ah, yes, Ms. Carmody. She is a very dedicated reporter who can be relentless in her interviews. Although I have to admit she gets rather intense at times, I know she is merely doing her job."
Wesley knew Abraham had stated things as diplomatically as he could. "She mentioned to me today that she heard your computer had gotten sabotaged and wanted to question you about it. I just thought I'd let you know. I also wanted you to know that she was rummaging through my garbage last week looking for anything that I may have tossed out after repairing your computer. Since I see she's intent on getting into trouble, I've decided to keep a close eye on her."
Abraham shrugged. "Although I'm as anxious as everyone else to know how Martha died, I have nothing to hide, Wes, so she can do all the digging that she wants." The older man then studied Wesley intently. "But I am concerned about you."
Wesley raised a brow. "Me? Why?"
Abraham studied Wesley for a few moments before speaking. "Because I know how you feel about female reporters and I don't want you to think every one of them is like that young woman you dated in college. I know what a difficult time that was for you. It's not always easy when a person's trust has been betrayed." He was quiet a moment and then added, "I often worry about you and Ian. The two of you have been hurt by women, and I don't want the two of you to let it ever stop you from experiencing true love and happiness."
An hour after Abraham left, Wesley was still thinking about the older man's words. He couldn't speak for Ian, but as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as true love and happiness when it came to a woman.
There wasn't any woman that he wanted to share his life with and he intended to keep it that way.
* * *
Six
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Jasmine stared at her car not believing what she saw. Of all things, she had a flat tire. She tried to remember what she had learned in that auto mechanics class she and Ronnie had taken a few years ago, and couldn't recall much of anything. And when she tried using her mobile phone to call for road service, she had discovered her phone battery was low and she couldn't make the call.
She had just come from a press conference at Crofthaven. The coroner's report had ruled that Martha Jones, whose body had been identified in the attic last week, had died of a heart attack. It seemed that Martha had had a congenital heart condition and had run away from home several times in the past. From what the authorities had been able to piece together, after a heated argument with her overly protective mother, at the age of sixteen Martha had gone to the attic to hide out when she'd suffered a fatal heart attack. Since that part of the house was never used, Martha's body had gone undiscovered for three years.
Jasmine sighed and glanced around. There weren't too many cars traveling by and those who'd passed hadn't slowed down to offer help. Thinking she would save time getting home, she had decided to use the two-lane stretch of road instead of the interstate to avoid rush-hour traffic. Now she didn't like the thought of being stranded.
Maybe if she took a look at the tools she had in the trunk, she might recall how to change a tire. She went to the back of her car and began pulling out her jack and spare tire.
When she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, she nervously glanced over her shoulder. She was alone on a practically deserted stretch of highway. Releasing the jack from her hand she gripped her key chain that also held her pepper spray.
Ready to take aim if she had to, she turned quickly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was Wesley. She didn't think she could be happier to see him.
"Need help?"
She shook her head. "Yes, please. I've got a flat tire. Do you know how to change one?"
He grinned. "Of course. If you need transportation for another interview, you can take my car and I'll take care of things here and bring your car to you later."
She glanced at his elegant silver-gray Mercedes and thought his offer was more than generous. "No, I'm all through for today and was on my way home. I tried calling road service but my cell-phone battery is low."
"No problem. I'll take over from here. If you'd like, you can go sit in my car and turn on the air conditioner. It's getting pretty hot out here." He couldn't help noticing how her blouse had become damp and was beginning to stick to her perfectly shaped breasts. Today she was wearing a pair of slacks so he couldn't see the gorgeous legs he'd thought about so often.
"No, I'm fine. Besides, I need to watch what you're doing so I can learn what to do the next time."
He met her gaze as he moved toward her trunk. "I hope there's not a next time." He meant it. He didn't like the idea of her being stranded on an isolated stretch of road with a flat tire. He would have come by sooner had he not been talking with Harold and Miranda Danforth.
He'd considered them his unofficial adoptive parents for the past fourteen years. Miranda had been scolding him about looking too thin and not eating enough. He had decided to use the two-lane highway instead of the interstate due to rush-hour traffic and was glad that he had. He didn't want to think how long Jasmine might have been stranded had he not come by.
"I hope there's not a next time, too, but I still want to watch," she said moving out of his way when he pulled out the jack and spare tire.
A few moments later she regretted watching Wesley. She barely paid any attention to what he was doing. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She couldn't help noticing his powerful arms and broad shoulders and the way his slacks stretched tight across his muscular thighs as he removed the flat tire.
