you needed?” the woman asked her at checkout.
“Yes, thanks,” she replied. She then glanced over her shoulder to see Wesley Brooks coming up to stand directly behind her with a ton of microwave spaghetti dinners in his hand.
“Stocking up on dinner, Mr. Brooks?” she asked after accepting her change back from the cashier.
“No more than you’re stocking up on junk food,” he countered, looking at her purchases that consisted of a pair of panty hose, a celebrity magazine, several bars of Snickers and a pint-size carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
“This is energy food,” she said, deciding she didn’t like him seeing what she had bought.
“And this is energy food, as well.” He then glanced at his watch. “I hope you’re calling it a day and are on your way home.”
She lifted a brow. “And if I’m not?”
“Then I’ll have to follow you around some more.”
She wanted to tell him to stop following her and get a life. But the last thing she needed to do was make him angry; she’d never get her locket back that way.
Jasmine had decided last night while in bed that the best way to deal with Wesley Brooks was to ignore him—which wasn’t an easy thing to do.
“Don’t try keeping up with me,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she accepted the grocery bag the cashier handed her.
“Oh, but I will keep up with you and I must say I found your activities today rather interesting.”
“Don’t you have a company to run?” she asked angrily.
“Yes, and being my own boss gives me the flexibility to make my own hours and I’ve decided to work them around your schedule.”
“How accommodating,” she snapped.
He smiled. “Yes, I think so.”
Jasmine frowned. This was the first time she had seen him since she’d left the press conference at Crofthaven. Martha Jones and Victoria Danforth had become missing within two years of each other, and Jasmine had left the press conference feeling rather suspicious of that fact. She couldn’t help wondering if Wesley was letting her know that he’d been hot on her tail when she’d left the press conference for the library to research old newspaper articles regarding the disappearances of both women. While she was at the library she had also decided to check into information on Abraham Danforth’s social life and the women involved in it.
Deciding not to engage in conversation with Wesley Brooks any longer, she gripped the bag firmly in her hand and walked out the door into the well-lit parking lot. When she got to her car she noted he was parked next to her. She pretended not to pay any attention when he went to his own car. He glanced over at her.
“You didn’t ask as many questions as I expected at today’s press conference,” he said putting his grocery bag in the back seat of his car. “I was impressed.”
She glared at him. “Don’t be. There will be other days, trust me.”
Wesley held her glare, emitting one of his own. “But I don’t trust you. Ms. Carmody, and doubt that I ever will.” He opened his car door to get in. “I suggest you go on home before your ice cream melts.”
Without waiting for her to respond he slipped inside his car and started the engine. But he didn’t move his vehicle until she had angrily gotten into hers and pulled out.
Glancing into her rearview mirror Jasmine saw that he was determined to follow her to her door. She inhaled deeply, thinking it would be a waste of energy to lose her temper. If the man had nothing else to do then that was his business and she refused to let him get to her.
But a part of her knew it was too late. He had already gotten to her and it would be a sheer act of will on her part to ignore him.
Wesley smiled when he pulled into his driveway to find Imogene Danforth sitting in her car and waiting on him. He was pleased, as well as surprised, to see her since they hadn’t got the chance to talk much at the press conference earlier that day. Everyone knew that Imogene was one very busy woman, almost working obsessively as an investment banker to move up the corporate ladder. She was known to eat on the run while conducting business over the phone.
He also knew that Imogene put a lot of stock in her appearance. She always chose just the right clothes, the right haircut and the right possessions. She saw all those things as essential in succeeding in the cutthroat business world of finance.
After he parked his car and got out, he watched Jake’s little sister get out of the sporty Lexus. He leaned against his car and frowned as he stared at the very attractive woman who was walking toward him dressed in an expensive navy-blue powerhouse business suit with matching shoes. She had her briefcase in one hand, a candy bar in the other, munching in between the conversation she was having on the cell phone headset that was plugged into her ear.
By the time she had reached him, whatever conversation she’d been holding had ended and she’d pulled off the headset, snapped the phone shut and slipped it into her purse at the same time she swallowed the last of the candy bar.
“Wes, I’m glad you finally came home. I thought I would die of starvation.”
Wesley lifted a brow. “You must really be hungry to confess that you are, Imogene. I thought you promised your parents that you would improve your eating habits.”
The attractive blond-haired, green-eyed woman standing in front of him lifted a brow of her own. “I’ll start eating better when you do.” She glanced at the grocery bag he held in his hand. “So, what’s for dinner?”
Wesley shook his head grinning. “Spaghetti.”
She smiled. “That figures, and I hope there’s one to spare. I have another appointment in about an hour.”
A half hour later Imogene was finishing off the last of her microwave spaghetti dinner with a glass of white wine. She smiled over at the man she considered one of her brothers. “Maybe you need to rethink my offer of investing in this food company since you seem to enjoy their product so much.”
Wes smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve had this conversation before, Imogene, and the answer is still no.”
She returned his smile. “I was hoping you would have changed your mind.”
“Not hardly, so go harass another client.”
Imogene giggled as she leaned back in her own chair. “So what’s going on with you, Wes, other than not eating properly? It seems Mom has the both of us on her ‘worry about’ list. She called this morning and asked that I check up on you to make sure you were eating properly.”
Wesley shook his head. “Umm, that’s interesting. When I saw her at Crofthaven today, she mentioned something to me about checking up on you, as well.”
Imogene frowned. “That figures.” After a few moments she said. “But what doesn’t figure is the looks you were giving that reporter at the press conference. Is there something I should know, Wes?”
Wesley
