Ronnie laughed. "Yours, of course, since I'm also a reporter and I've done some pretty crazy things, too. But personally, I think you're getting obsessed with this Danforth thing, to the point where you'll do just about anything to break a story."
Jasmine frowned. "Ronnie, that's not fair. You sound like you think I don't have any ethics."
"And I'm sorry if I sound that way, but think about it, Jazz. Ever since you were assigned to cover Abraham Danforth's campaign, you've been determined to dig up anything and everything on him that you can."
Jasmine shrugged. "I just want to report the truth."
"Yes, but why are you so convinced there is something he's hiding?"
Jasmine frowned deepened. "And why are you convinced there isn't?"
Ronnie chuckled. "Like I said earlier, I grew up in this town. The Danforths have been around forever. That doesn't make them saints but I personally think of them as good people. And as far as Abraham Danforth is concerned, he's pretty well liked which is why he has a lot of supporters. So be careful, a lot of people won't like you trying to sully his name."
All she had to do was think of Wesley Brooks to know that was true. Before Jasmine finally drifted off to sleep an hour or so later, she couldn't help but think about the conversation she'd had with Ronnie. Had she become so obsessed with breaking a story that she had started being unfair and biased?
She swallowed hard when she thought about just how pushy she'd been with Larissa Neilson in trying to get the woman to admit that Jacob Danforth had fathered her child.
She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position in bed, determined to put Wesley Brooks, as well as the Danforths, out of her mind. A few minutes later she discovered it was easy putting the Danforths out of her thoughts, but getting rid of Wesley Brooks was a little more challenging.
Even when Jasmine finally drifted off to sleep, she couldn't keep Wesley from creeping into her dreams.
* * *
Three
« ^ »
The next morning, while sitting at her kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, Jasmine pulled out a folder to review all the information she had gathered on Abraham Danforth so far.
One thing she'd discovered about the man was that he was an overachiever. He'd been the first son born to the prominent Savannah Danforths, and as such he'd been expected to be the best at everything. Entering the military he rose to the rank of Navy SEAL commander. He married Chloe Forsythe, who represented the crème de la crème of Savannah society and she bore him five children. Jasmine's report also indicated that while serving in Vietnam on a dangerous mission, Abraham had gotten injured.
When Abraham's wife died, he was at the height of his military career and knew he couldn't provide the kind of nurturing presence his children needed. He'd arranged for his children to attend the finest boarding schools and had asked his younger brother Harold to step in on the holidays when he was gone.
Jasmine pulled out a color photograph of Abraham Danforth and had to admit he was very good-looking for his age. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. At fifty-six, he had an athletic physique which was probably due to all the hours he spent at a health club. Single and wealthy, he would be a prize catch for any woman. She couldn't help wondering why he had never remarried or why his name wasn't romantically linked to anyone. Maybe that was something she needed to look at more closely.
Jasmine sighed deeply as she pushed her notes on Abraham Danforth aside. The man who'd once had a distinguished military career now wanted to be a senator. There had to be something in his background that was worth checking out and uncovering. No one could have such an unsullied past.
And what about the rumor that threatening e-mails had been sent to him? As well as the question as to who was responsible for crashing his computer with a virus and why? Both incidents sounded like the man had an enemy that she needed to know about.
She glanced at her watch. It was time she got dressed and went in to work. She intended to drop by the library some time today and research information about the women in Abraham Danforth's life. More specifically, the names of the women he had dated within the past twenty-four months. There was a possibility that one of them had something interesting to tell.
An hour or so later after arriving at work, she was sent to city hall to cover the mayor's press conference where he announced the city's proposed budget cuts. After the press conference ended, like the other reporters that were present, she began jotting down last-minute quotes on her laptop.
Jasmine shivered when she felt someone's hot breath stir against her neck. She turned around quickly, only to collide with Wesley Brooks.
She took a step away from him and released an exasperated sigh, determined to be cool and not let him know he was ruining her normally good attitude. Because she'd dreamed of him all through the night, she had awoken edgy and irritated.
"Interested in politics, Mr. Brooks?" she asked curtly. The one thing she immediately noted was the fact that he seemed taller to her today. Taller, more overwhelming and just as sexy.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. "No, but I am interested in you. I hope you've been staying out of trouble."
She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, and encountered the same ruthless glint in his gaze that had been there the night before. "My job is to report the news. That's what I'm doing and what I've always done."
"Oh? And that includes going through someone's trash?"
Jasmine lifted her gaze up to the ceiling. "You have social status in this community, Mr. Brooks. Surely someone has invaded your privacy before. Do you want me to believe you've never been hounded by the paparazzi? What about that time last year when it was rumored that you were seeing that well-known professional model?"
He shrugged. "That was different."
She lifted a dark brow. "In what way?"
"It was different because I decided to tolerate it then, and because it was about me. You going through my garbage wasn't about me. It was about your efforts to start a smear campaign against someone I care deeply about and respect. But I guess you probably don't know much about care and respect."
She was taken aback by his assumption. "For your information I care for and respect my father deeply."
"Your father?"
She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, my father. Didn't you think I had one?"
He glared. "When it comes to you, I really didn't know what to think. When I first saw you, I thought you were a homeless person."
She nodded, remembering how he had offered her money and food. She felt bad about that. She snapped her laptop shut and began walking. He automatically began walking beside her. "Well," she said, trying to ignore him, "as you can see I am not homeless."
He raked his gaze over her. "Yeah, tell me about it."
She stopped walking and glanced up at him and said, "Look, I'm really sorry about that."
He looked into her eyes. "Are you?"
She felt the need to clarify. "Not for going through your garbage but for you thinking I needed a handout. It was kind of you to offer me money and food."
"I'm usually a kind person," he said in a low voice right beside her.
Until he feels someone is trying to use him or is hurting someone he cares about, she thought as she began walking again. He walked silently beside her until they reached her car. She noticed he had parked next to her. He turned and looked at her. "So where to now, Ms. Carmody?"
She shook her head. "Don't you think you're taking this a little too far?"
"No further than you took things when you went through my trash," he said leaning against his car.
She was about to say something but at that particular moment her mobile phone rang. "Yes?"
Her eyes widened. "When?"
She then sighed deeply. "All right. Thanks for letting me know." She slipped her mobile phone back into her purse and looked at him. "I just heard something that might interest you, Mr. Brooks."
He lifted a brow. "What?"
"That was my boss. A definite identification has been made on the body that was found in the attic at Crofthaven."
Wesley straightened. "Who was it?" he inquired quietly.
Jasmine cleared her throat. She knew how much this information meant to him. "The body was identified as Martha Jones."
Wesley inhaled deeply. Martha Jones had been the troubled and sickly daughter of Joyce Jones, the Danforths' long-time housekeeper. His heart went out to Joyce.
He met Jasmine's gaze. "And I bet you're determined to find Joyce Jones to get the scoop.
She frowned. "Yes, I'd definitely like to talk to her."
Wesley narrowed his gaze at her. "Don't you ever let up? The last thing Joyce needs right now is a nosey newspaper reporter asking her questions. She probably needs this time alone."
Jasmine scowled. "I'm not an insensitive person."
He glared. "Really? You had me fooled. Only an insensitive person would have hassled Larissa about the identify of her baby's father."
She placed her hands on her hips. "It's my job to report any news-breaking stories. And I considered that news breaking. Anything that goes on in the Danforths' household is newsworthy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."
Wesley sighed. The woman was wearing on his last nerve and he forced himself to stay calm in the wake of his rising anger. He moved aside when she got into her car. He had meant what he said, he intended to be her shadow and somehow he would get through it. She would be a challenge but he'd overcome challenges before. Jasmine Carmody was nothing compared to others he'd faced. As a kid, being carted from one foster home to another had been a challenge, as well as a pain … literally.