What The Millionaire Wants.... Brenda Jackson

When it went to voice mail, he grimaced. “It’s Hawke. I need you to get me whatever you can find on Matthew Peterson, both personal and business. And I need it ASAP. Send whatever you find to my e-mail address.”

      Hitting the off button, he considered calling his assistant at home, then opted against it. Unless it was an emergency, Dotty would not be at all happy to have him calling her at home on a Sunday night. As she’d told him often enough, weekends were for family.

      Instead, he holstered his cell phone and when the light changed, he headed back down Saint Charles Avenue in the direction of the hotel. The air was cool, but not cold like New York. Not that you could tell by the way the people were dressed with their gloves and heavy coats, he thought. And given the number of red-and-green scarves he’d seen, people were already into the Christmas frenzy. December was still a few days away, but the storefronts and restaurants were already trimmed in lights. Christmas trees filled several windows and wreaths hung from doors. Even the lobby of the Contessa sported pots of red and white poinsettias and a huge tree.

      Jack frowned as he thought of how all the Christmas craziness was going to impact him getting business done. He hated the distraction the holidays caused almost as much as he hated weekends. And he really hated weekends, Jack admitted. Nobody wanted to work on weekends and unless you were in the retail or service end of business, nobody did. That meant there were no stock deals to be done, no bank transactions to be made, no business brokering to negotiate and no attorneys or board of directors available to draw up contracts and vote on his deals. He hated that. He hated wasting time and he hated waiting for the hours to tick by until Monday morning rolled around and he could get back to work.

      Sidestepping a couple with a baby stroller, Jack continued toward the hotel. Despite what his assistant claimed, he was not a workaholic who needed a wife. He had all the female company he wanted. As for work, it was mastering the game that drove him. That and the need to win. And having Laura in his bed was a bet he was looking forward to winning. He was thinking about all the delectable ways he intended to enjoy Laura when he neared the hotel and spied her standing under the porte cochere with her back to him and a cell phone at her ear. As he drew closer, he caught the tail end of her conversation.

      “No. It’s just that I was hoping we could go tonight to see the Celebration in the Oaks together.”

      He knew from the doorman that the Celebration in the Oaks was some big Christmas thing at the park. Was she talking to Peterson? he wondered. Was he in town? Was Peterson the reason he hadn’t seen Laura at the hotel all weekend? Jack clenched his jaw as he thought about Laura spending the past two days with his stepbrother. He had never liked Matt Peterson. Even when their fathers had been partners and friends, the two of them had never gotten along. Two years older than him, Peterson had been a manipulative bully who had gotten his kicks by getting Jack into trouble. Later, when his mother had run off with Peterson’s father, Matt had delighted in taunting him, calling him and his father losers.

      “Yes. Of course I understand. Business should come first.”

      For a moment, Jack heard his mother’s voice in his head, admonishing him for eavesdropping when he’d overheard her making plans to meet his father’s partner. He didn’t care if it was wrong or rude, he decided, and dismissed the memory. He remained where he was, several feet away from Laura, but close enough to listen to what she was saying. Although he made a show of studying the firs that had been draped with white lights near the hotel’s entrance, his focus remained on Laura and her conversation.

      “I know. It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen you and I was looking forward to us spending some time together.”

      The disappointment in her voice had envy curling in his gut. The fact that he was fairly sure it was his stepbrother she was pining over made the uncharacteristic jealousy he was experiencing all the more difficult to swallow. It also made him angry—with her and with himself—and all the more determined to wipe every memory of Peterson from her mind when he claimed her as his prize. The admission sent a stab of guilt through him. Just as quickly, he dismissed it. He was not using Laura to exact revenge on Peterson, he told himself. The chemistry had been there between them even before he’d known she was involved with his stepbrother. The fact that he would be taking her from Peterson when he bedded her would simply be an unexpected bonus.

      “No. Don’t worry about picking me up. I’m just going to take a taxi home and call it an early night.” She paused. “You, too.”

      After she flipped the phone closed, she turned around and stopped cold when she saw him. “Hawke, what are you doing out here?”

      “I was on my way into the hotel when I thought I recognized you standing over here. I wasn’t sure it was actually you at first since this is the first time I’ve seen you in jeans—which, by the way, look great on you,” he added. It was the truth. Those long legs of hers were made for skirts, but they looked every bit as sexy in the snug-fitting jeans.

      “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome.” Judging by her body language, Jack could see that he was making her nervous and he wasn’t sure if that pleased him or not. He wanted her nervous with anticipation about being in his bed, not nervous because she was afraid of him. “I haven’t seen you around the hotel the past couple of days and was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

      “I decided to take the weekend off and catch up on some personal stuff.”

      Personal stuff like hooking up with his stepbrother? he wondered and felt that envy burning his gut again. “Have you told your boyfriend about our little bet yet?”

      “I haven’t told anyone about our bet,” she informed him.

      “Why not? Afraid he won’t like the idea of you sleeping with me?”

      “I don’t like the idea that there’s even the remote possibility that I might have to sleep with you. So I’d just as soon no one else know that I agreed to something so stupid.”

      Irritated by her response and his need to prove her a liar, Jack inched a step closer. He wanted to haul her up against him, kiss her senseless until she was begging him to make love to her. And because his own need was so great and he feared he wouldn’t stop with a kiss, he did neither. Instead, he reached out and drew the back of his fingers gently down her cheek. His gaze never left her face and he watched her eyes widen, darken at his touch. Then slowly, very slowly, he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. Her lips parted. He heard her gasp, felt the warmth of her breath against his fingertips. He was reconsidering kissing her after all when Laura stepped back.

      “I need to go,” she said and started to leave.

      “Laura, wait,” he called as he followed her toward the hotel’s entrance.

      He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d called her by her name or if she heard the regret in his voice, but she stopped, turned. Before he could apologize for coming on like a Neanderthal, she held up her hand and said, “No, you wait. I don’t know if you’re trying to intimidate me or seduce me, but it isn’t going to work because I’m not going to sleep with you. At least, not unless I have to.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “I—” Evidently surprised by his answer, she fell silent, leaving the rest of what she’d planned to say unfinished. “Then I guess there’s nothing more to say except good-night. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go grab a taxi and head for home.”

      “What about the Celebration in the Oaks?” Jack asked as he fell into step beside her. When she slanted a glance his way, he explained, “I couldn’t help overhearing. Sounded like your boyfriend canceled on you.”

      He waited for her to confirm or deny his statement. She did neither. Not until they stopped at the end of the line for the taxi stand did she say, “Something came up. I’ll just go another time.”

      The disappointment in her voice was also in her expression. And, once again, Jack found himself irritated by the notion of her with Peterson. A burning need to wipe his stepbrother’s