Windswept (33 page)

The three brothers were large men, one Davis’s height and the two others taller. He could see the family resemblance in their facial structures, eyes and hair color. None had her curls, though.

“I’m Davis Jamison.” He shook their hands as they introduced themselves. Phil, the oldest, was the shortest. Greg was in the middle in age and height. Mark, the youngest, was the largest, and Davis remembered he was the pro football player. “If you don’t want Barrett to see you, we can talk in here.” He led the brothers into the dining room and turned up the lights.

“What can I do for you?” he asked once they were seated at the table.

Phil was the spokesman. “Barrett has talked so much about you and her job here that we thought it best to get to know you ourselves. We like to look out for our sister, if you take my meaning.”

Davis smiled. In fact, he was so amused he almost grinned. He could not remember being checked out by a girlfriend’s family since high school. The conversation from dinner also went through his mind. He hoped none of them had a hunting knife. “What would you like to know?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Mainly we wanted to make sure she was safe in every definition of the word. Barrett can be too trusting, and we don’t want to see her hurt,” Phillip stated.

“I have no intention of hurting Barrett. In fact, I expect to take very good care of her. Gentlemen, she is safe here.” If they wanted to know what his intentions were, they were going to have to state it explicitly. He hoped they wouldn’t; he himself wasn’t sure what they were. He heard someone coming down the hall. Uh-oh. It didn’t sound like Gonzales.

It wasn’t. Barrett came around the corner of the stairs and halted, a look of surprise on her face. Her expression quickly turned to one of anger and exasperation as she stomped into the foyer and stood for a moment on the top step scowling down at them. Davis watched her carefully and felt a flash of apprehension on behalf of the other men. He was thankful he was totally innocent in the situation.

Her sudden appearance did not disconcert her two elder brothers. Mark, however, appeared chagrined. She stalked to the end of the table and glared at each brother in turn. “I have to go to my room for something and what do I find? My busybody brothers have come to call,” she said, her voice low, calm, and acid-tinged. “My apologies for my brothers, Davis. They look like normal people, but they don’t have a brain among them. I am very tired of their playing the big brother game.”

“Now, Barrett,” Phil tried to get a word in, but she was having none of it.

“Do not tell me that I’m jumping to a conclusion here. I do not intend to repeat our usual conversation about your oversight of my activities,” she continued. “It obviously does no good. In the future, I will maintain contact with my sisters-in-law and their children, but, Phil and Greg, it will be a very long time before we are on speaking terms. I refuse to put up with this embarrassing charade ever again.” She made a slashing gesture with her hand.

“But you, little brother,” she pointed a finger at Mark, “Your ass is mine.” She grabbed hold of his shirt collar and dragged her brother up into the foyer. He was bent almost double but made no attempt to use his obvious advantages to break loose.

They heard the front door slam.

Davis traded glances with the two and managed, only with difficulty, to keep a straight face. “Gentlemen, I think you have a problem.”

“Yeah, I think she means it this time.” Greg shook his head. “Let me come to the point, Jamison. There are two of them. First, Barrett got involved with an asshole named Truman three years ago. She got hurt, and we don’t want to see it happen again. Second, and most important, I’m with the Houston PD, and Phil’s an Assistant District Attorney with Harris County. I had lunch with Len Gilroy of the Hunter’s Creek force—he’s an old friend. He asked if I was any kin to Barrett Browning, and he told me about a break-in here and a possible nut case out to get you, connected to these papers she’s studying. We will not have Barrett caught in any crossfire.”

Davis sobered up immediately. “Let me assure you I am taking every precaution possible with regard to my cousin, even though I do not expect violence from him. We have security alarms on the house, and my staff are fully alerted. I’ve been downplaying the situation with Barrett, so as not to worry her, and I would appreciate it if you did not belabor the subject around her. There’s no sense in causing her undue alarm.” He was not going to address the subject of this Truman fellow, and he certainly wasn’t going to discuss with her brothers what he and Barrett had between them. “Having her hurt is the last thing on my mind.”

“I think we can agree there,” Greg said. “If I thought the situation was really bad, I’d try to take her out of here, but with the plantation records here, I probably wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance of her agreement. That leaves us depending on you. You know you can count on us if there’s any problem at all?”

The front door opened and closed again. All three men turned to watch Barrett stamp past them toward the office without acknowledging their presence in any manner at all.

“Yes, I do, and I appreciate the help,” Davis said after she had passed. “I’m keeping a close eye on my cousin. Any problems are really between him and me. Barrett has nothing to do with our argument.” Lloyd would be insane to try anything against Barrett personally. Surely he knew Davis would kill him if he did. “But what are you going to do about her? She’s thoroughly pissed with you.”

“She’ll come around,” Greg said. “She always does. Come on, Phil, let’s go see if she left any hide on Mark. He didn’t like the idea of coming here in the first place. I hope she didn’t worm out of him our knowledge of the break-in. She’ll go ballistic if she knows we’ve been keeping an eye on her. Thanks for your time, Jamison.” He rose and held out his hand.

“Don’t worry about Barrett,” Phil said. “She’ll be all right when she cools down. After all, you’re not the object of her anger.”

Davis saw the brothers out and went back to the office. Barrett was standing, looking out at the pool, her clenched fists on her hips, her posture stiff with anger. He walked up behind her and started massaging her tight shoulders. She shrugged, as if to throw off his hands, but he kept rubbing. After a minute, she relaxed. In the glass reflection, he saw her close her eyes.

“Better?” he whispered in her ear as he put his arms around her and drew her back against him.

She took a deep, deep breath and let it out. “Davis, I really want to apologize for my brothers. I hope they didn’t embarrass you too much.”

He chuckled and kissed her ear, then nuzzled her neck just above the T-shirt until she wiggled. “It was an enlightening experience. I haven’t been checked out by a woman’s male relatives since I was a teenager. Facing your formidable brothers reminded me how good old Eric must have felt when I warned him off Martha.”

He turned her in his arms so he could see her face. “And, speaking for brothers, they do have your best interests at heart.”

She punched him lightly on the chest with her fist and gave him a disgusted look. “Oh, please. Do you have any idea how sick I am of them acting like Neanderthals in the name of ‘what’s good for Barrett?’ I’m not twelve years old. I’m a grown woman.”

“You certainly are.” He pulled her closer, rubbed against her.

She frowned, thumped him again. “Don’t change the subject. Why did my brothers come here tonight? I know it was for another reason than to torment me--or you.”

He gazed down at her while he tried to formulate his answer without bringing up the burglars or Lloyd. He wasn’t fast enough.

“Oh, wait,” she said, comprehension causing another scowl. “I know. Phil and Greg have been keeping tabs on me, haven’t they? Greg knows a couple of officers at Hunters Creek, and they told him about the break-in, didn’t they? Or Phil has someone watching for our names in the police database. Right?”

“You need to ask them,” he said with a straight face, hoping she wouldn’t go further in her reasoning.

“What about this one? Did they know about the break-in?”

Davis stared down into those blue eyes and reminded himself how intelligent he had thought the brain behind them was. He was proven right again. “Yes, they knew about it. They just wanted to be sure you were safe.” He gave her a little kiss.

“And?”

Damn, she was hard to distract. He kept his tone bland. “And I told them you were, and I would keep you that way.” He tried another kiss. A longer one.

“And?”

“And they said nothing else.” Another kiss, this time using his tongue.

She pulled back and her gaze concentrated on his mouth. Good, it was working.

She licked her lips and said, “Nothing about us, you and me . . .”

“No.” This time he took her mouth and plundered.

And started an inferno that carried them up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Where there was a minimum of talking and a maximum of Barrett.

Later, Davis lay awake while she slept in his arms.

He’d meant what he said to her brothers. He’d keep her safe, from Lloyd, from Glover, from Sandra, from anyone who tried to hurt her.

What had happened with the guy the brothers mentioned--Freeman? Thurman? No, Truman. Three years ago? He’d seen no indication she was pining for anyone. He doubted he had any serious competition from the son of a bitch. What a pathetic jackass the jerk must have been, to let Barrett get away.

He certainly wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d keep her right here, in his house, in his bed.

In his life.

Wait a minute. What had he just decided?

To keep Barrett in his life. To have her with him permanently. The idea felt right, like a good business deal and investment. He smiled and felt his mustache and another part of his anatomy twitch in agreement.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Late in the afternoon Thursday, Barrett looked up from her place on the floor to watch dark gray-blue clouds roil across the sky above the patio. They looked ready to unleash another deluge on top of what had already fallen during the day. Before she opened the new box, she shivered and slipped into her sneakers. She didn’t like to wear shoes while organizing the papers on the floor, but her feet were cold.

She was deep into the files when Gonzales announced Bill Jamison wanted to see her. Disgruntled at the interruption--she really wanted to complete this carton today--she agreed. After all Davis had told her about his brother, she wondered what he could want, but she wasn’t about to deny him entry. When he came in, she remained sitting on the floor, surrounded by correspondence, and gestured him into one of the chairs against the windows.

“Hi, Bill,” she said but tried not to sound too cordial. “Be careful where you step, please. As you can see, I’m kind of in the middle of things right now. What can I do for you?”

She looked him up and down. Polo shirt and tailored khakis, high-end loafers and an expensive watch. What Martha and Davis had said about their little brother came to mind. The man was really too handsome and charming for his own good, but compared to Davis, he looked . . . soft.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by for a minute. I wanted to tell you how great you looked at the party.” He appeared calm, but an odd nervousness seemed to lurk underneath the surface, like he was trying not to fidget.

“Thanks, but you didn’t need to do that. And thanks for your help with Sandra and Horace. I really appreciated it.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward to study the correspondence. “These are the infamous Windswept papers? Found anything juicy?”

“No. Do you know of any scandals in them?”

“Nope. The only stories Granddaddy ever told me were all about military ancestors and the Yankees. Historic heroics, Jamisons through the ages.” He picked up a letter and read it.

“Bill, I’m really busy. Could you please come to the point?” Barrett put down the sheets in her hand. “Why are you here?”

Bill grimaced and dropped the paper back on the floor. “I have this favor to ask. I know I don’t have the right, but I’m hoping you’ll give me some help.” Definitely nervous now, he didn’t look her in the eyes.

Barrett said nothing, just waited.

“It’s about this project.” Bill launched into a description of what he called “an investment opportunity” and painted it in glowing colors. He was only about thirty seconds into the description before Barrett knew the whole thing would be risky at best and a disaster at worse. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “What exactly is the favor you want from me?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, I was hoping, seeing how close you are and all, you would help me approach Davis about a loan from my trust fund.” He ended with what he clearly hoped to be an ingratiating smile.

Although she’d suspected what was coming, his cavalier attempt to use her against Davis infuriated her instantly. She sprang to her feet. “Why on earth should I do that? I have no influence over Davis about anything other than the Windswept papers.”

“Oh, yes, you do. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The man’s a goner. I don’t need much, just ten thousand . . .” Bill pleaded, looking like a puppy eager for praise. He’d probably want a tummy rub next.

Barrett stepped carefully over the papers to Bill’s chair and leaned toward him, hands on her hips. “In the first place, I would never ask Davis to do such a thing. Your family finances are none of my business. In the second place, the scheme sounds absolutely awful.” She reeled off five reasons why. “This snake-oil salesman clearly has you bamboozled.”

She straightened up and looked him up and down. “What is the matter with you? I know you were well and expensively educated, but to ask me intercede with your brother? Do you have the sense, common or otherwise, God gave a pineapple? In the third place, how old are you now, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-eight,” he mumbled.

“What a waste of human potential and money. Well, it’s about time you did something to prove it. Right now, from what I’ve observed, your brother and sister don’t think much of you as a man. They show little respect for their own brother. Doesn’t it bother you? Do you think respect grows on trees? Davis and Martha both work very hard for their money and their success. Are you thinking those things grow on trees too?”