Brenda Jackson - Westmoreland Desires - Riding the Storm / Jared's Counterfeit Fiancée / The Chase Is On

Jayla sipped her drink and half listened to the musicians who were performing a very jazzy tune. Of course she had recognized Storm’s concern as a protective gesture but still, she couldn’t resist ribbing him about being jealous.

He was so easy to tease. Charming, gorgeous and sexy as sin. But what she’d told him had been the truth. She had basically written men off. That’s why she had decided to use the fertility clinic instead of a live donor.

She had made up in her mind that marriage wasn’t for her. She enjoyed her independence too much to have to answer to anyone, and men had a way looking at their wives as possessions instead of partners, a lover for life, his other half and his soul mate. Her time and concentration would be focused on having her baby and raising it. Then later, if she did meet someone who met her qualifications, he would have to take the total package—her and her child.

She glanced over at Storm and saw his full attention was focused on the musicians. There was a dark scowl on his face and she wondered if he was still thinking about her and the Internet man.

Running into him in New Orleans was definitely an unexpected treat. She decided to enjoy the opportunity while it lasted. So far, their day together had been so much fun…at least for half the time. The other half of their time together she’d been too busy fighting her attraction to him to really enjoy herself. He was no different from the other men she had dated—possibly even worse—but that didn’t stop that slow sizzle from moving through her body whenever he looked at her.

A part of her couldn’t help but wonder if all the things she’d heard about him were fact or myth.

“The riverboat has returned to dock, Jayla.”

His words, spoken low and in a husky tone, intruded into her thoughts. She glanced around and saw that the riverboat had returned to the Toulouse Street Wharf. “We returned sooner than I thought we would,” she said, forcing down the lump of disappointment that suddenly appeared in her throat.

“We’ve been cruising the Mississippi for over three hours,” he said, returning the irrepressible smile that had recently vanished from his lips. “Don’t you think it’s time we got back?”

She shrugged, wondering if he’d gotten bored with her already. Without saying a word, she stood and began gathering up the debris from their meal. He reached out and stopped her. She looked up and met his gaze.

“I’m not one of those men who expects a woman to clean up after him.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. His hand was still on hers, holding it immobile, and she could feel the sensuous heat from his touch all the way down to her toes. She pressed her lips together to fight back the moan that threatened to escape. How could he overpower her senses in such a way that she couldn’t think straight?

Frowning, she blew out an aggravated breath as she pulled her hand from his and resumed what she was doing. “I don’t consider it as cleaning up after you, Storm. It’s an old habit. Whenever Dad and I ate together, I always cleared the table afterward. We had a deal. He cooked and I cleaned.”

“Really?” he asked, studying her intently as his lips quirked into a smile. “And why was that? Can’t you cook?”

She glanced up at him and the deep dimples in his cheeks did things to her insides that were totally beyond her comprehension. She figured it would have been a lot easier for her to understand if she wasn’t a twenty-six year old virgin. While in college she’d almost gone all the way with a senior guy by the name of Tyrone Pembrooke. But his roommate had returned unexpectedly, interrupting things. For her, it had been fortunate since she’d later discovered he had made a bet with his fraternity brothers that he would get into her panties in a week’s time. She had almost learned too late that the name the senior guys had given the freshman girls was fresh meat.

“Yes, I can cook,” she finally answered Storm. “Dad loved home cooking. He thought food wasn’t worth eating if it wasn’t made from scratch. He just couldn’t get into those little microwave dinners that I was an expert at preparing.”

Storm chuckled as he helped her gather up the remaining items off the table. “Hey, I can understand your father’s pain since I like home-cooked food, too.”

They walked over to the garbage container and tossed in their trash. “You cook for yourself every day?” Jayla asked as they headed toward the lower deck to depart.

“No. Since my shifts run twenty-four on and forty-eight off, I eat at the station when I’m working and the days I’m off I eat at Chase’s Place, my brother’s restaurant.”

She nodded, remembering that his twin brother, Chase Westmoreland, owned a restaurant in downtown Atlanta. It was a really popular place; she had been to it several times and always found the food delicious. She glanced down at her watch. “When we get back to the hotel, it will be nap time for me.”

“Umm, not for me. There’s still more for me to see. I think I’ll go check out that club on Bourbon Street that’s located right next to the drugstore. I hear they have good entertainment.”

Jayla lifted a brow. She knew exactly what club he was referring to, since a group of the guys who’d also attended the convention had visited there. And if what she’d heard about it was true, its only entertainment was of the striptease kind. She frowned wondering why the thought of Storm watching women bare all bothered her. Why did men fail to realize that there was more to a woman than what was underneath her clothes?

“Well, I hope you enjoy yourself,” she said. Her tone had been more curt than she had intended.

“Oh, trust me, I will.”

And she knew, just as clearly as he’d said it, that he would.

Storm was having a lousy time, but when he glanced over at his cousin Ian, it was evident that he was enjoying himself. Ian had contacted him last night and told him that The Delta Princess would be making a stop in New Orleans and suggested they meet for drinks at this club.

A few seconds later, Ian must have felt him staring and looked over at him. “What’s the matter with you, Storm?”

Storm decided to be honest. “I’m bored.”

Ian lifted a brow. “How can you be bored looking at women take off their clothes?”

He shrugged. “It all looks basically the same.”

A smile curved the corners of Ian’s lips. “Well, yeah, I would hope so.”

Storm couldn’t help but return the smile. He and Ian were first cousins—their fathers were brothers. While growing up, they had always been close. They were the same age and one thing they’d always had in common was their appreciation of the opposite sex. Storm wasn’t surprised that his cousin thought the fact that his lack of interest in women stripping naked was strange.

“Okay, who is she?”

Storm looked confused. “Who’s who?”

“The woman who’s ruined your interest in other women.”

Storm frowned. He glared at Ian. “Where on earth did you get a crazy idea like that from? No one has ruined my interest in other women.”

Ian met his glare. “And I say you’re lying.”

Storm released a frustrated sigh. Ian was damn lucky he hadn’t hauled off and hit him. But that was his brother Thorn’s style. Thorn was known for his moody, ready-to-knock-the-hell-out-of-you temperament. At least, that had been his attitude until he’d gotten married. Now Tara had unruffled Thorn’s feathers and the last few times he’d seen him, Thorn had actually been easygoing. Marriage had certainly made a happy man out of Thorn, as well as his brothers Dare and Stone. Storm found it downright sickening. He’d also been curious as to why his brothers were smiling all the time. As far as he was concerned, they weren’t getting anything at home that he wasn’t getting out there in the streets.