Jacob's Proposal

“Don’t you think I know that? But since I’m busy and you’re not, you might offer to get it for me.”

“I’d rather stay here and leer at Ms. McGuire.”

Ada smirked at him. “I guess you would.” She turned and trotted for the hall door, calling over her shoulder, “Claire, you keep these boys from tearing up my kitchen while I’m gone.”

“I hope the two of you aren’t feeling violent this morning,” Claire said as Ada vanished down the hall. “I’d hate to let Ada down.”

“I’m a gentle soul,” Michael assured her. “Unlike my rowdy brother.”

Jacob raised one eyebrow in that cool, mocking way that used to make Michael want to smash him when he was a teenager. Of course, he’d wanted to smash a lot of things back then.

Claire was amused. “Yes, I can see how rowdy Jacob is. A real troublemaker. You’re in the army, Michael?”

“Special Forces. My brothers treat me with much more respect now that I know how to kill a man in thirteen seconds.”

Her eyebrows went up. “At least I can tell when you’re joking. I think.”

“Jacob was born with a poker face. When the doctor slapped his bottom, he didn’t cry—he slapped him back. Then he bought the man’s practice.”

“It was my first buyout,” Jacob said seriously. “The man had excellent labor relations, but he’d dabbled too heavily in futures.”

“That,” Claire said, her lips twitching, “was a joke. A bad one, but definitely a joke.”

Jacob continued to lean against the counter, sipping his coffee and talking casually with his new employee. He didn’t fool Michael for one minute. Jacob had always gone after what he wanted with the single-minded focus of a lion stalking a gazelle—no nerves, no mercy and the great patience that is possible only in the absence of doubt. His big brother wasn’t so much unaware of the chance of failure as he was impervious to it. A lion whose prey escaped didn’t slink off and moan about his failure, or decide he wasn’t really cut out for this hunting business. He went out and found another gazelle.

But had Jacob ever gone on the hunt for a woman—one particular woman? Michael didn’t think so. Maggie had been—well, handy. Not prey.

“If you have any brothers,” Jacob was saying, “you’ll know you can’t believe half of what Michael tells you about me.”

“No brothers or sisters, I’m afraid, though I do have a cousin I’m close to.” Her eyes softened with memory and affection. “We were hell-raisers together, way back when.”

“Were you?” Jacob set his coffee cup down. “I have trouble picturing you raising hell. Raising temperatures, yes.” He smiled slowly, all sorts of suggestions in his eyes. “That, you do very well.”

Her eyebrows lifted in a wonderfully haughty way. “If that’s supposed to be a compliment, please don’t bother.”

“A statement of fact, rather.” He straightened, moving away from the counter. “It’s not eight o’clock yet.”

She glanced at her watch—a pretty, but inexpensive piece, Michael noted. “If you’d like me to get to the office early—”

“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.”

Three

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.”