Ian's Ultimate Gamble. Brenda Jackson

were made. And seeing her standing there was overwhelming his sense of self-control.

      He sighed deeply, inwardly wishing he could focus on something other than her body and her scent. He wanted to concentrate on something like the rose he had given her, but instead his gaze lowered to her navel, which used to be one of his favorite spots on her body. He could recall all the attention he used to give it before moving lower to…

      “Ian?”

      He snatched his attention back to her face and cleared his throat. Damn, he had come to make peace, not make love. They would never share that type of relationship again. “Yes?”

      “Thanks for the rose, and I’m glad we can move forward in our lives, and I hope that one day we can be friends again,” she said.

      Brooke was watching his eyes, probably noting the caution within their dark depths when he said, “I hope so, too.”

      She nodded. “Good.”

      He leaned in the doorway. “You’re going out?”

      “Yes, I thought I’d go for a swim at one of the pools. The one with the huge waterfall looks inviting.”

      Ian nodded. It was. He had passed the area on his way here, and another thing he noted was that it was crowded with more men than women. He then remembered that the Rolling Cascade was hosting a convention of the International Association of Electricians. There were over eight hundred attendees, eighty percent of them men who probably thought they were capable of finding a woman’s hot spot and wiring her up in a minute flat. He drew his dark brows together sharply. Not with this woman.

      “That pool is nice, but I know of one that’s a hundred times better,” he said, when an idea suddenly popped into his head.

      “Really, where?”

      “My penthouse.”

      She met his eyes then, and he could imagine what thoughts were going through her mind. Hell, he was wondering about it himself. He had no right to feel possessive, as if she was still his. But just because she wasn’t didn’t mean he shouldn’t have a protective instinct where she was concerned, did it?

      Feeling better about the reason he was inviting her to his suite, he reached out and took her hand in his. “Look, it was just an invitation for you to use my private pool. Besides, I’d like to catch up on how things have been going for you. But if you prefer we don’t go any further than the rose, that’s fine.”

      Brooke took a second to absorb Ian’s words. He wanted them to become friends again and nothing more. He had given her a peace offering and now he wanted them to catch up on what had been going on in their lives. She doubted that he knew she asked about him often, whenever she and Dare spoke on the phone. She knew Ian was back at the top of his game, had reinstated his role of the Perfect End and now claimed he would never, ever settle down and marry. With his cousin Storm happily married, Ian much preferred being the remaining lone wolf of the Westmoreland clan.

      “I’d love to go swimming in your private pool and visit,” she said, and hoped and prayed she could get through an evening alone with him in his private quarters.

      The smile that touched his lips sent heat spreading through her. “Good. Are you ready to leave now?”

      “Yes. I just need to grab a towel.”

      “Don’t bother. I have plenty.”

      “Okay, let me get my door key.”

      Moments later she stepped out and closed the door behind her. As they walked together, side by side, toward a bank of elevators, she was fully aware that Ian was looking at her, but she refused to look back. If for one instant she saw heated desire in his eyes, she would probably do something really stupid like give in to the urgency of the sexual chemistry that always surrounded them and ask him to kiss her. But knowing what ironclad control Ian could have, he would probably turn her down.

      “Welcome to my lair, Brooke Chamberlain.”

      Ian stepped aside to let her enter, and Brooke’s breath caught the moment she stepped into the room. His personal living quarters was a floor above his office, and both were connected by a private elevator, an arrangement he found convenient.

      The moment Brooke crossed over the threshold it was if she had walked into paradise. She had figured that, as the owner of the Rolling Cascade, Ian would have a nice place, but she hadn’t counted on anything this magnificent, this breathtaking.

      His appreciation of nature was reflected in the numerous plants strategically arranged in the penthouse, which encompassed two floors connected by a spiral staircase.

      The first things she noticed were the large windows and high ceilings, as well as the penthouse’s eclectic color scheme—a vibrant mix of red, yellow, orange, green and blue. She was surprised at how well the colors worked together. For symmetry, the two fireplaces in the room were painted white, and then topped with drapery of a hand-painted design.

      It appeared the furniture had been designed with comfort in mind, and several tropical-looking plants and trees gave sections of the room a garden effect.

      “Come on, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand in his.

      The warmth of the strong hand encompassing hers sent a sea of sensation rippling through her. She tried not to think about what expert hands they were and how he used to take his thumb and trail it over her flesh, starting at her breasts and working his way downward, sometimes alternating his thumb with his tongue.

      His silky touch could make her purr, squirm, and elicited all kind of sounds from her. And when he would work his way to her navel—heaven help her—total awareness for him would consume her entire body, making her breathe out his name in an uncontrolled response to his intimate ministrations.

      “You okay?”

      His words snatched her back from memory lane, and she glanced up at him. “Yes, why do you ask?”

      “No reason,” he murmured, and the tone sent a shiver all through her.

      Brooke raised a brow. Had she given something away? Had she made a sound? One he recognized? One he remembered?

      They walked together while he gave her a tour. French doors provided a gracious entry from room to room, and the kitchen, with its state-of-the-art cabinets and generously sized island, showed a comfortable use of space. The skill of an interior designer touched every inch of Ian’s home, and Brooke thought this was definitely the largest penthouse she’d ever seen. It encompassed more square footage than her house back in D.C.

      Ian told her that Prince Jamal Ari Yasir was his primary investor and that Ian’s brothers, Spencer and Jared, and his cousin Thorn had also invested in the Rolling Cascade. The one thing Brooke had always admired about the Westmoreland family was their closeness and the way they supported each other.

      When he showed her his bedroom a spurt of envy ran through Brooke at the thought of the other women who’d shared the king-size bed with him. But then she quickly reminded herself that Ian’s love life was no business of hers.

      “So, what do you think?” he asked casually.

      His question momentarily froze her, and she shifted her eyes from the bed and met his gaze. “I’m really proud of you, Ian, of all your accomplishments. And you are blessed to belong to a family that fully supports what you do. They are really super.”

      Ian smiled. “Yes, they are.”

      “And how are your parents?”

      “They’re doing fine. You do know that Storm got married?” he asked, leading her out of the bedroom, down the spiral stairs, to an area that led toward an enclosed pool.

      She smiled up at him. “Yes. I can’t imagine marriage for the Perfect Storm.”

      The corners of Ian lips curled in a smile. “Now he’s the Perfect Dad. His wife Jayla and their twin daughters are the best