The Bride Means Business

Damn him. If only he’d wilted a little around the edges of his youth and good health. It would have been wonderful if she could have looked at him, this man she’d loved and had planned to marry, and wondered what she’d ever seen in him in the first place. Instead, she could barely breathe, and her heart was galloping away, leaving the rest of her to be dragged along behind by a stirrup.

The crowd behind her murmured, “Amen,” and she realized they’d come to the conclusion of Charles’s and Alma’s funeral service. The minister stepped aside and she rose to do her part.

Beside her, Dax also stood. As she moved forward with two yellow roses, a last token of her friendship, he slipped his hand beneath her elbow, wrapping long fingers around her upper arm and holding her firmly against his side.

She cast him a furious glance, tugging her elbow away, but he didn’t let her go. For the first time, their eyes met, and the cynical amusement she read in his black eyes made her grit her teeth so hard she heard them grinding together. If he thought he was going to force her into making a scene here, he was sadly mistaken. She’d come to pay her last respects to his younger brother—

Charles. Oh, God, Charles and Alma. The fight went out of her and she had to lock her knees against the sudden weakness that threatened.

The reason for Dax’s presence exploded in her mind again. Charles couldn’t be dead, couldn’t be lying in cold abandoned silence in that white box. He was the only person in the whole world who knew everything there was to know about Jillian Elizabeth Kerr, and she needed him. She needed his undemanding friendship, the total support he’d always offered, the shoulder for her tears.

And Alma. Sweet, gentle Alma. Charles hadn’t expected to love her, but she’d been the best thing that could have happened to him, and she’d accepted Jillian’s place in his life as easily as she would have a real sister. Alma’s shoulder also had been dampened by tears, though Jillian had stopped shedding them years ago.

But those tears were trying desperately to get out today. She pressed her lips together to still their quivering, standing silently for a moment before leaning forward to lay down her offering atop each casket, then moving aside so others could pay their respects.

Dax’s fingers touching her arm burned through the suit cloth and as soon as she wasn’t the focus of attention any more, she did yank her arm away. “Get your hands off me, Dax, unless you want to lose those fingers.”

They had moved out into the sunlight, and his perfectlycut black hair gleamed, so deep a midnight hue that not the slightest trace of copper or indigo highlight would dare show itself. He looked every inch the successful American male. He chuckled at her words, though there was no humor in the sound, and his deep voice raked over exposed nerve endings like sugar on a bad tooth. “I’m glad to see you’re as charming as ever, honey-bunch. I just got into town. Aren’t you going to fall all over me and welcome me home?”

“You’re about seven years too late.” She could have cut out her tongue as soon as the words came out—the last thing she wanted was for him to think his leaving had bothered her so much she still remembered it. But the old endearment had rattled her, brought memory nudging again at the door closed and locked on that chapter of her life.

His eyes narrowed, and something dark and scary moved beneath the polished charm for a moment, making her almost—almost—step back. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

His eyes cut toward the coffins behind them. “Shame about old Charlie. And his wife. I never met her but she really must have been some hot number, for him to drop you like a hot potato.”

Monster. How could he talk so callously about his own brother? The fist around her heart squeezed painfully, but all she said was, “Alma was very special. Charles cherished her.”

The inverted Vs of his dark eyebrows lifted. “I bet that really ticked you off. Or did he keep you around for a little side action when things got dull?”

Her brain ingested the words, rolled them around and tried several times to connect them before she realized what he meant. “You bastard. Don’t make assumptions about my life. You don’t have a clue what Charles and I felt for each other. Oh, excuse me—” she nodded graciously as if something had just occurred to her “—I forgot. You’re better at assumptions than you are at commitments.”

She was standing almost toe-to-toe with him now, although it was hard to look him in the eye without tilting her head backward since he was so much taller than she. The dark thing in his eyes flickered and flared to life, and she recognized contempt, and a rage as deep as her own.

“Jill?” The husky feminine voice carried a note of worry. “What’s wrong?”

Jillian turned. Her sister Marina was rushing toward her, practically dragging her husband Ben along in her wake.

Jillian moved toward her, taking her hands and slowing her to a halt. “Nothing’s wrong.” She made an effort to focus. “Except that we’re standing at a funeral for two people who never should have died so young.” She heaved a sigh, aware that Dax was still behind her, but planning to ignore him. Permanently.

“Marina. Have I changed that much?” She should have known Dax wouldn’t slink away quietly. No such luck. He came up beside them and took Marina’s hands from Jillian’s, a smile so much warmer than the hateful greeting Jillian had received sliding across his tanned features that she blinked and stared.

Then she realized her sister was looking at her for help, her pretty face clouded by the knowledge that this was someone she should know.

“Um, Marina, this is Dax Piersall, Charles’s brother.”

Dax was already opening his mouth to ask a question when she turned to him. “Marina was in an accident a few years ago that caused her to forget some things. She doesn’t remember much of her childhood.”

“Charles’s brother?” Marina’s wide blue eyes filled with tears as she gripped Dax’s hands. “I didn’t know Charles had any family. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Dax’s words were a whip that halted the flow of words midstream. “We hadn’t seen each other in years. We weren’t close.” He shot a glance at Jillian and an expression very near a sneer distorted his face. “Not like Charles and Jillian were close.”

“Stop it, Dax,” she said coolly. “You can snipe at me all you like, but at least try not to be a bore to the rest of the world.”

There was a flat, dead silence. Then Dax drew a breath and looked at Marina again, and again, Jillian noticed his expression softened. “I’m sorry you don’t remember me. We had some good times together when we were kids.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. Turning, she drew her husband forward. “This is my husband, Ben Bradford. Ben, Dax Piersall, who apparently is one of my childhood friends.”

Jillian’s brother-in-law thrust out his hand and gripped Dax’s, but she noticed Ben wasn’t smiling. Neither was Dax, and the similarities between the two men struck her suddenly. Both were quite tall, strong without being bulky, dark-eyed and black-haired—although Ben’s hair was a warmer shade, and there were traces of silver at his temples that Dax hadn’t acquired yet. Unless he colored them, she thought nastily.

Both men also exuded an aura of raw power, a force field of some kind of personality energy that other people recognized and deferred to instantly. Except for those who happened to be named Jillian Kerr.

Ben stepped back from the handshake, clearly dismissing Dax. “You’ll have to excuse us,” he said to Jillian. “I have to get Marina home. She needs to get out of this heat and rest.”

Marina rolled her eyes. “‘Rest,’ he says. The baby will be screaming for another feeding by the time I get home. Oh, yeah, I’ll get plenty of rest.”

Ben took her hand, grinning now. “We’ll see you later,” he said to Jill.

“I’m leaving now,” she said, seizing the chance to get away from Dax’s presence. “I’ll walk with you.”

But Dax snagged her hand before she could get away, tightening his fingers around hers until it hurt when she tried to pull free. “You can’t leave yet. We have some reminiscing to do.”

“Let her go,” said Ben, stepping forward, his jaw jutting aggressively.

“It’s okay, Ben,” Jillian said hastily. “Dax and I do have some things to discuss.” Her heart had done a back flip at the first touch of his firm, warm skin against hers, and her body quickened in anticipation. She might hate him, but he still had the power to move her physically.

Trying not to show it, she tested his grip, but he still didn’t let her go. She didn’t want to be touching him, and he knew it. But she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She might as well show him right off that she was capable of giving as good as she got, she decided with perverse satisfaction.

Stepping close, she pressed her body against him, sliding her free hand up his chest to toy with his tie. Even though she had braced herself for the contact, she had to close her eyes to hide the impact of awareness his hard body provoked.

His eyes widened fractionally. Then they narrowed and his hand loosened around hers. He slipped one arm around her in a familiar manner, his hand resting on the swell of her hip, fingers spread wide to hold her firmly against him. The electric sizzle that surged through her at the contact nearly wiped her mind clean.

Concentrating, she forced herself to ignore the small explosions of arousal going off in her system, gathering her words and her wits. “Among the things we need to talk about is Piersall Industries—now that we’re the primary stockholders in the company. You two go on.”

She never took her gaze from Dax’s as she spoke, and though he hid any trace of surprise, she noted the shock in his eyes when she mentioned the business. So he hadn’t known Charles had willed her all of his stock in Piersall. But then, she’d only learned about it this morning, so she’d hoped he hadn’t heard yet.

She sensed the hesitation in her sister, knew Ben was reluctant to leave her alone with Dax. She also knew Ben’s temper. And the protective streak that was a mile wide. If she didn’t get rid of him, there were liable to be two men throwing punches in a minute. So she kept the frozen smile in place, waiting until, from the corner of her vision, she saw them turn and start away again.

As soon as they did, she stepped away from Dax, and to her surprise, he let her go. It was a good thing, too. Every inch of her that had been plastered against him was throbbing and she could barely think.

“You leave my sister out of this,” she said to him in a fierce tone.

“She really doesn’t remember me, does she?”

“She doesn’t remember anything from before her accident,” Jillian said. “Lucky girl. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat.” Before he could speak again, she went on. “Really, Dax, you should have let me know you were coming. I’d have arranged a little party if I’d known. Invited every other loser in town.”

“You’ve changed,” he said. “The old Jillian was a sweetheart, not a sidewinder.”

She hated the way he was looking her over, like she was one of the Arabian mares his family had owned when they were growing up. “Of course I’ve changed,” she said briskly, impersonally. She’d die before she’d acknowledge the zing of hurt that verbal arrow produced. “I’m a grown woman with a business and a life to manage.”