admit it to anyone else, Leona wore her dresses cut a fraction lower than was considered decent—especially for her ample figure—and her hair a shade more fiery red than nature alone could provide. Yet her wealth, her social position and political connections on both coasts kept anyone from commenting—in public, anyway. She’d recently lost her fourth, much-older husband and, according to the latest rumor, had already turned down two marriage proposals.
“You know me well,” Leona purred.
“Which of my secrets have you uncovered?” he asked, motioning her toward the seating group at the other end of his office.
Leona took her time settling onto the sofa, arranging her skirt, shifting her shoulders in a way that called attention to her impressive bosom. Brandon took the chair to her immediate left.
“I’m terribly hurt,” Leona declared. “This Jennings deal of yours. You never mentioned a word of it to me.”
“There’s talk?” Brandon asked, a little concerned.
“Whispers,” Leona said, and raised an eyebrow suggestively. “I learned of it from an unnamed, but very satisfied, source.”
The Jennings Building, a five-story structure in a prime location, currently housed the Los Angeles Messenger. Brandon owned both the newspaper and the building. Over the last year he’d refused to renew the leases of tenants until now only the newspaper remained. It, too, would be gone soon. Then his new project would be officially announced, though it had been quietly in the works for some time.
“And is this ‘unnamed source’ of yours interested in the project?” Brandon asked.
“Of course,” Leona said. “Everyone is interested in anything that involves you, Brandon, dear. Your name attached to any project guarantees success.”
Brandon smiled, not unhappy to hear a compliment.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll give you the details before the public announcement.”
“Of course you will,” Leona said, favoring him with another smile. “Now, on to your next secret.”
Brandon frowned, trying to imagine what she referred to this time.
“The return of your wife,” Leona said. “I admit, I’m surprised you’re even here at your office today.”
Brandon shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He was certain everyone who’d heard of Jana’s return was curious to find him at work today, rather than at home rolling around in bed with her, making up for their fourteen-month separation.
The playfulness left Leona’s face. “Not a joyful reunion?”
“Not exactly,” Brandon said. He didn’t hesitate to explain further, knowing Leona would keep his confidence, even to unnamed—but satisfied—sources.
It wasn’t the first time she’d kept silent on his behalf.
“She wants a divorce,” Brandon explained. “I told her no, of course. She agreed to work on our marriage.”
“So you have everything under control,” Leona said.
Brandon nodded. He’d thought about it all last night, all morning, all afternoon. He knew what to do.
“Jana is my wife. She must live up to her responsibilities. It’s her duty.”
“You romantic devil, you,” Leona said.
Brandon sat forward. “I have duties in our marriage. She does too. Everyone has duties. We all must live up to them.”
“Duties?”
“Of course,” Brandon said. “Jana needed a firm hand. It was my fault she left, really. I was too easy on her. I’ll be sure she understands her responsibilities this time.”
“Well, as long as you have everything under control…” Leona rose from the sofa, bringing Brandon up with her. She gave him a long, sultry look. “You should have married me.”
“All your husbands die.”
“But they go with smiles on their faces.” Leona sauntered to the office door, threw him one last knowing look, and left.
“I see you’ve made your decision,” Maureen said.
Jana glanced back at her maid closing the latches on her trunk. “It wasn’t exactly my decision,” she said. “Brandon refused to grant me a divorce unless I did as he asked.”
“He has a point,” Maureen said.
Jana didn’t respond, just moved past her aunt, down the hallway and into the parlor of the suite. Brandon did, indeed, have a point. It was all she’d been able to think about since they’d talked yesterday.
Legally and in the eyes of God they were married. Brandon had been right about that. And Jana could find no argument to refute his assertion. She’d taken vows, pledged her life to their union. None of which should be taken lightly.
It had all seemed so much easier, so much clearer in London. There, she’d known exactly what she wanted. With the distance from her husband, she’d realized exactly what sort of man he was—and what sort of man she wanted.
But after seeing him again yesterday…
Jana sank onto the settee. She’d tossed and turned, paced the floor all night. Was she being foolish? Wishing for something that would never be there? Expecting more from Brandon than he’d given in the past?
Or had he changed? She certainly wasn’t the same person she was fourteen months ago. Could Brandon have changed, as well?
For better or worse, their marriage vows had stated. Could the “worse” really be behind her?
Jana sensed her aunt come into the parlor and rose from the settee. “I owe it to the marriage to give it another chance.”
Aunt Maureen raised her brows. “And you’ll do that? Give it an honest chance?”
Jana nodded. She’d do just that. If not, why bother with it at all?
“I think it’s better that we try one last time,” Jana said. “As Brandon says, if it still doesn’t work at least we’ll know we tried to do the right thing.”
Maureen nodded. “It will be easier to explain…later on.”
Doubt swept through Jana, but she pushed on.
“You’ll take care of everything here?” she asked. She’d discussed it with her aunt already and she’d agreed, but Jana felt she had to ask one last time.
“I’m ready for some rest, some solitude.” Maureen gestured toward the window. “The sunsets here are glorious, at times. I want to try and capture them on canvas. I have books to read and poetry to write. I’ll be fine, dear. Don’t give it a thought.”
“I’ll come visit every day,” Jana told her.
Maureen
