Engaged to Jarrod Stone Read online

  Jarrod’s dark head was held at a haughty angle, his grey eyes unyielding. There was no doubt that he was a hard man when crossed. He must terrify his business opponents into retreat; he certainly terrified her. ‘Must I keep reminding you that you started this?’ he drawled.

  ‘But do you have to take advantage of it?’ Her eyes pleaded with him.

  ‘Yes. Now that’s the last time we discuss this. From now on you’ll just do as you’re told. And there will be no repeat of your behaviour this morning,’ he added warningly.

  They were walking along side by side now, Jarrod at last seeming to realise she had shorter legs than he did. She looked up at him innocently. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked, knowing very well to what he referred.

  ‘The way you drooled over me was completely unnecessary. I told you I wanted no over show of emotion.’

  ‘Ooh, I didn’t drool!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘You gave a very good impression of it.’ His eyes remained fixed ahead.

  ‘You kissed me first,’ she accused.

  ‘I admit that, but it was nothing like the provocative act you were putting on.’ He stopped outside an expensive-looking jewellers. ‘I don’t want anything like that in here, just a little natural affection for a new fiancée.’

  ‘I hate you, Jarrod Stone!’ she said furiously.

  He looked down at her with enigmatic eyes, making her aware of just how attractive he was—so tall and commanding, really majestically male, and very, very, handsome. She felt the old familiar flutterings in her stomach. It seemed she wasn’t over her infatuation after all!

  ‘Let’s just keep it that way, shall we?’ he said softly. ‘I must admit to feeling slightly curious about your motivation for announcing our engagement this morning. At first I imagined it to be a not very subtle form of blackmail, then after reading your file, your age and so forth, I wondered if it might not be infatuation.’

  ‘Not for this girl,’ Brooke answered quickly. It had been infatuation, but that infatuation had quickly turned to dislike. His contemptuous words had turned her supposed love into a desire for revenge on his mercenary attitude towards women. He was the sort of man women fell for in their hundreds, and he walked away from them all untouched. Well, she had just made sure he hadn’t got away so easily this time!

  ‘Why so vehement?’ he asked. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time a young girl has imagined herself in love with an older man. Some of these girls have been known to take the initiative when they don’t think they’re achieving their aim fast enough.’

  ‘Like I said, not this girl,’ she assured him.

  ‘No, your move was made from pure revenge, wasn’t it, little mouse?’

  Brooke knew he was deliberately baiting her and she obstinately refused to let him ruffle her. ‘Can we get this over with? I have to be back in forty minutes.’

  His eyes snapped with anger. ‘I thought I told you to get an extended lunch break.’

  Brooke pretended an interest in the jewellery window. ‘You did,’ she confirmed disinterestedly.

  ‘Then why the hell didn’t you?’

  She flung back her head, her hair gleaming auburn-brown in the sunlight. ‘I didn’t because I’m not the owner of the firm. I can’t just take two-hour lunch-breaks when I feel in the mood.’

  ‘You’re engaged to the owner, that amounts to the same thing.’

  ‘I would have thought that was all the more reason for me not to take advantage of the situation. By the way, there’s a little man bobbing about inside the jewellers. I think he’s looking at us.’

  ‘No doubt. Well, if you only have forty minutes left I suppose we’d better get inside.’

  The jeweller had obviously seen Jarrod Stone numerous times before and Brooke wondered if she had been right in her assumption about this place. That he was a valued customer there could be no doubt, it was there in the exaggerated respect he was receiving.

  ‘So nice to see you again,’ the jeweller gushed. ‘And to meet your fiancée.’ He smiled at Brooke. ‘I’m so glad you chose our establishment to buy your ring, Miss Faulkner.’

  Jarrod gave what Brooke considered to be his first natural smile of the day, at least, in her company. ‘You know you’re the best in town, Green.’

  ‘So kind of you to say so, sir. And may I say I agree with your decision not to include sapphires in your choice. Miss Faulkner’s eyes are more violet than blue.’

  ‘Could we see the rings?’ Jarrod requested tersely. ‘We don’t have a lot of time.’ This last comment was obviously meant for Brooke.

  She waited until the jeweller had left them alone before making a comment. ‘I didn’t realise you’d even noticed the colour of my eyes.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he replied curtly. ‘It was in your file.’

  ‘Didn’t your secretary think it odd for you to want to read my file?’

  ‘I don’t pay her to think about my personal life.’

  Brooke frowned. ‘I’m sure it didn’t say anywhere in my file that my eyes were violet.’

  ‘Maybe not. But they are, so let’s not argue about it.’ He straightened as the tray of rings were presented for their inspection.

  They were beautiful rings—diamond clusters, solitaires, emeralds and rubies surrounded by sparkling diamonds. And all of them looking as if they would cost a fortune! She felt sure they all would. This was one of those exclusive expensive jewellers that only the very rich frequented. And Jarrod Stone was very rich.

  Her eyes glowed as she picked up first one ring and then another, almost afraid to touch them but tempted by their beauty. As she had very long slender hands some of the smaller stones just didn’t look right on her finger, but she chose these rings to try on because she knew they would be the least expensive. Finally she looked up at Jarrod for help. ‘Which one do you like?’ she asked helplessly.

  Without hesitation he chose a large diamond set on a thin gold band, sliding it on to her finger before she had time to protest. ‘That’s the one,’ he nodded his approval.

  She could tell by the satisfied smile on the jeweller’s face that Jarrod had chosen the most expensive ring on the tray. She tried to pull it off her finger, but Jarrod’s strong brown hand came out to stop her movements.

  ‘You may as well leave it on,’ he told her. ‘It fits perfectly.’

  ‘Oh, but I—’

  Mr Green had already picked up the tray containing the other rings and was in the process of locking them away again.

  ‘No arguments in here, please, Brooke,’ Jarrod warned her out of earshot of the other man.

  ‘But this ring is much too expensive,’ she protested.

  ‘Leave that to me. That’s the ring I want you to wear.’

  ‘But I’ll be frightened of losing it.’ She looked down at it wide-eyed.

  ‘It will be insured,’ he said uncaringly.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Leave it, Brooke,’ he ordered as Mr Green came back.

  Brooke felt a natural curiosity to know just how much this rock on her finger was going to cost, but she knew it wasn’t expected of her to stay and listen to the money side of the sale, so she wandered over to look in some of the other cabinets, looking at the glittering necklaces inside.

  Once outside Jarrod handed her a large square box, ignoring her questioning look. ‘Open it,’ he ordered.

  She did so with trembling fingers, crying out her surprise as she saw the contents. Nestling in blue velvet was a large teardrop diamond set on the most delicately fine gold chain she had ever seen, and lying within its circle were a pair of matching earrings. They were really lovely.

  She thrust them back at him. I don’t want these.’ She remembered too well what he had said about giving his women jewellery. ‘The ring I’ll wear until I can be free of you, but I don’t have to accept anything else from you.’

  ‘They’re for you to wear tonight.’ He ignored the proffered box. ‘I want you to look the part.’

  �
��And a little receptionist like myself isn’t likely to have this sort of jewellery hidden away,’ she sneered.

  ‘Exactly,’ he agreed cruelly.

  ‘You’re an arrogant swine, Jarrod Stone. But I’ll wear your diamonds for you—as long as I can return them to you as soon as we’ve left the party.’

  ‘Don’t be so childish!’

  ‘Then I won’t wear them. You can’t force me to,’ she declared obstinately.

  ‘What an obstructive little girl you are! All right, I’ll keep them locked up for you. Now let’s go on to a shop where we can buy you a dress.’

  Brooke stiffened. ‘I have my own clothes, thank you.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, but I want you to have something new.’

  ‘I have my own clothes,’ she repeated through gritted teeth. As it happened she had exactly the right dress to wear to go out with this sophisticated man, a gown that had been bought for a special occasion that had never taken place. It was an expensive one, bought to impress a boy-friend that she had finished with before the promised evening out. At the time he simply hadn’t measured up to her rather romantic impression of Jarrod Stone. How ironic that she should now wear the dress to go out with Jarrod Stone himself!

  ‘Do you have to argue about everything?’ he snapped.

  ‘If it means I hold on to my identity against you—yes!’ she answered defiantly.

  ‘God, you’re impossible!’ He hailed a passing taxi, bundling her inside before sitting beside her. ‘Before you start a full-scale argument in the street,’ he explained.

  ‘You’re too dominant, that’s your trouble!’ she snapped.

  He began to smile, and finally the smile turned into a genuine laugh. It changed his whole face, not making him appear quite so grim and also making him look younger. Brooke felt her senses stir at the real humour in his deep grey eyes.

  ‘I’m dominant?’ he chuckled. ‘You seem to be the one organising my life for me at the moment.’ He got out and opened the door for her as they reached the building he owned. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty this evening.’

  ‘But you don’t know where I— Oh yes, my file.’

  ‘Mm, it has your address in it. Not much else, but it does have that. I’ll see you later.’ He got back into the taxi.

  Too late Brooke realised she still had the necklace and earrings in her hand. She would have to keep them with her now, something she hadn’t wanted to do. Her handbag seemed the best place to stow them away, and putting the case at the bottom of what she jokingly called her ‘shoulder suitcase’ she went back to her desk.

  She was so conscious of the huge diamond on her finger that for the first half an hour after her return she kept her left hand hidden. Jean soon noticed it, though, exclaiming enthusiastically over its beauty.

  ‘You still haven’t told me how you come to be in love and engaged to him. Why, only this morning I was insulting him to you, doubting his ability to be passionate if he tried. Now you must know first hand that I was wrong.’

  Brooke didn’t know first hand at all, but Jarrod’s lower full sensuous lip didn’t point to him being the cold impassionate machine Jean had implied this morning. And he hadn’t kissed like an amateur, that brief caress evoking a response within her in spite of herself.

  ‘You were wrong,’ she confirmed, sure that this was so.

  Jean smiled dreamily. ‘It’s all like a fairytale, isn’t it? Engaged to be married to the unattainable Jarrod Stone. Lucky old you!’

  Yes, lucky old her. She wasn’t thinking that way later that evening as she nervously got herself ready to go to Philip Baylis’s party. If Selina Howard was an example of Jarrod Stone’s friends then there would be some really sophisticated people at this party tonight.

  Her dress was a russet coloured silk, bringing out the red lights in her dark brown hair. It clung in soft folds over her breasts and hips, the high roll-neck adding fragility to her swan-like neck, the long sleeves finishing in a point at the wrist. It was a dress that emphasised her slenderness and suited her like no other she had ever possessed.

  She had washed her hair and brushed it dry until it gleamed reddish-brown, crackling with health and cleanliness. She had applied a light eye make-up, brushing a soft peach lip gloss over her lips. The earrings and necklace glittered in glowing beauty against the dark material of her gown and she knew she was looking her best.

  Jarrod Stone’s dark grey eyes gleamed his approval of her as she let him in to her tiny flat. He was looking particularly attractive tonight, wearing black trousers, a white silk shirt, and a grey velvet jacket that matched the steely grey of his eyes. He carried a large white box under one arm, and Brooke had to admit to feeling curious about its contents.

  He stood back to survey her. ‘Very nice,’ he said finally, placing that intriguing box on the table.

  Brooke blushed prettily. ‘Thank you. Tonight, you—you won’t leave me on my own too much? I—I don’t know any of the people who are likely to be at this party.’

  ‘You’ll know Philip.’

  She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I don’t know Philip Baylis, I’ve only seen him a couple of times when he’s come to see you. I know about him, as I know about you, but I don’t actually know him.’

  ‘You soon will,’ he said dryly. ‘I have no doubt that Philip will waste little time introducing himself to you. But don’t ever forget that you’re supposed to be engaged to me,’ he added warningly.

  ‘I can hardly forget it with this huge rock weighing my finger down,’ she retorted hotly, resenting his implication that she was stupid enough to flirt with his friends. ‘You didn’t even bother to ask me if I wanted this ring. I may not have liked it,’ she said petulantly.

  Jarrod shrugged. ‘It isn’t important.’

  ‘Only that it looks expensive enough to be worn by the fiancée of the great Jarrod Stone,’ she scorned. ‘You’re enjoying this, Mr Stone. Enjoying the fact that I stupidly got myself engaged to you.’

  ‘I’m not enjoying it at all, Brooke,’ he contradicted grimly. ‘But I have little choice about it. So I mean to make the best of it, and you would do well to do the same. After all, isn’t that partly the reason you did it? You denied infatuation, so it must have been partly blackmail.’

  ‘It was pure revenge,’ she denied hotly.

  ‘If you like to think so. Nevertheless, the jewellery you now have in your possession will bring you a sizeable sum when you decide to sell it. That should make it all the easier for you to bear being engaged to a man you say you hate. For some reason women seem to find jewellery a great comfort.’

  ‘This jewellery isn’t mine to sell,’ Brooke told him fiercely. ‘The earrings and necklace I’ll return at the end of the evening, the ring when you decide you’ve punished me enough for my impetuosity. Whether you believe me or not, blackmail didn’t enter into my thoughts at all. I once believed myself—’

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted at her hesitation.

  She shook her head. Why should she give him the satisfaction of knowing she had once thought herself in love with him? He would probably laugh in her face at such an admission. ‘It isn’t important. Shouldn’t we be leaving now? It’s getting late.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Jarrod picked up the box he had carried in, handing it to her. I realise this should be mink or ermine, but I don’t happen to believe in killing animals to provide a woman with something beautiful to wear.’

  She gave him a puzzled look, ripping off the lid to the box to stare at its contents. Lying amongst the tissue paper was a snowy white velvet cape. She picked it up, smoothing its softness lovingly. ‘It’s beautiful!’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Good.’ He took it out of her hand and draped it casually about her shoulders. ‘We’d better be going now.’

  His car was fast and sleek, moving with a speed that was completely effortless. It was a dark green Ferrari, and he drove it with a skill that was purely habitual. It seemed incredible to Brooke that she was actually
sitting here at his side on her way out with him for the evening.

  Philip Baylis’s house was about ten miles out of the centre of London, a house set back off the road and reached by the long gravel driveway leading right up to the oak front door. Cars adorned the driveway and the whole house was bathed in light. Soft music sounded from inside, and Brooke followed Jarrod Stone up to the front door with some trepidation.

  They were admitted by a manservant, and Brooke left her cape in his capable hands. Jarrod turned to look at her. ‘I suppose you want to powder your nose or whatever it is that women do when they disappear for hours on end?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Her hair could definitely do with a tidy up.

  ‘It’s through there,’ he pointed to a door on the left. ‘I’ll be inside having a drink.’

  ‘Oh, but—’

  ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he said impatiently. ‘I won’t be far away.’

  She set her mouth determinedly and entered the powder-room. There were several other women in here and she moved through them awkwardly to the large mirror along one wall, brushing her hair self-consciously.

  ‘I notice Jarrod hasn’t arrived yet,’ remarked a tall blonde girl to another girl standing a few feet away.

  ‘He’ll be here. Philip said he invited him,’ the other girl replied.

  ‘I can hardly wait!’ The blonde applied her lipstick.

  Brooke had remained rooted to the spot at the first mention of Jarrod’s name, curious to find out what was going to be said next. Both these girls were beautiful, perhaps they had been some of the girls Jarrod was reputed to have escorted in the last few years.

  ‘Have you seen his girl?’ the second girl asked.

  ‘Never. No one seems to have heard of her until today. He really kept quiet about this one.’

  ‘Selina won’t be very happy about it,’ the other girl laughed bitchily. ‘She really thought she had him where she wanted him.’

  The blonde arched one thinly plucked eyebrow. ‘I’m sure she’s had him there, several times.’

  ‘You think it actually went that far?’

  ‘Charles is such a simpleton where Selina is concerned. He has no control over her at all. And she wanted Jarrod, we all know that.’