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  "I've decided to swear off men. One promiscuous member of the family is enough. I have no intention of competing with Livvie for the dubious honor. " Her tone was acid and dry.

  "Dammit, Jordanna. " Christopher straightened, his expression darkening with anger. "When are you going to let up on her?"

  "When are you going to stop leaping to her defense?" Jordanna countered just as swiftly. "We both know all about her many lovers. It's past history—past, present, and future. She'll never change. I have stopped expecting that My only point is that I'm not going to follow in her footsteps. "

  "Who said you would?" He followed the question without giving her a chance to answer. "I know you've had some empty relationships, but your choice of partners has left something to be desired. You can't walk around in that body and pretend that you don't have needs and desires. "

  "I can control them, " she stated decisively.

  "That isn't your problem. "

  "Oh?" she challenged. "Since you seem to know so much, what is my problem?"

  "You seem to think sex has something to do with shame. Maybe that's why you've been indiscriminate about your choice of men in the past. Sex is a beautiful experience, Jordanna, when it's shared with someone you care about. There's no shame afterwards, only a pleasant afterglow. "

  "My, my, " she mocked the vehemence of his answer. "Maybe I should follow you out on a date and take notes. "

  Christopher whitened, his features drawn into taut lines. "Perhaps you'll better understand what I mean if I compare it with hunting You don't waste your time with an inferior member of the species. You keep looking until you find the best representative of the breed—one with stamina, heart, and looks. I believe your term is trophy class. " He paused, his composure slowly returning to calmness. "Everyone has a mate, Jordanna. You'll never find yours if you stop looking And denying your own sexuality will only bring you misery. "

  Unable to meet his reflected gaze in the mirror, Jordanna studied the rolled brush tip of her mascara wand. His comparison made sense but it conflicted with her own resolutions. The silence that followed his words finally made her lift her gaze, but she saw only her reflection in the mirror. Her brother was no longer standing there. Startled, Jordanna turned. The soft crackling whisper of tissue paper came from the bedroom.

  "Kit?" Curious, she stepped into the doorway.

  His back was to her as he bent over an object lying on her bed. Jordanna couldn't see what it was with her brother standing in the way. At the sound of his name, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled absently.

  "Come here. I have something for you. "

  Jordanna walked forward. "What is it?" she asked, an instant before her brother stripped away the protective plastic and turned to hold up a long black gown.

  "I designed this for you. "

  The simplicity of tie design caught her eye first. "It's beautiful. " The bodice consisted of two straps, wide where they joined the high and broad waistband, tapering to narrow bands over the shoulder, and even slimmer strips of the cloth down the back. "It's daring, " Jordanna observed with a half-laugh.

  "It's perfect for you, " he insisted, "It will show off the ideal symmetry of your figure and your beautiful skin. The flare of the skirt will permit that strong and graceful movement that is unique to you. And I prefer the word 'provocative' to daring. "

  "But I've never worn black before, " she offered the hesitant protest. It had always seemed her mother's color.

  "It will bring out the fiery highlights of your hair. Trust me, " her brother urged. "You will be beautiful in this. And it's time you wore something that brings out that earthy quality that sets you apart from other women. "

  She sent him a glittering look that was both sharp and amused. "Is this all part of accepting my own sexuality, Kit?"

  "It's a step, " he conceded smoothly. "Will you wear it tonight?"

  "Yes. " Then Jordanna remembered, "You designed a dress for Liv to wear tonight. We are being used, aren't we? We're modeling clothes you designed. Livvie will show off your look for the mature beauty, and I will portray the femme fatale of the young jetsetter. You're hoping to drum up some business among the party guests, " she accused, but without malice.

  A wry, cynical expression touched his handsome face as he shrugged. "It's done all the time. " He moved toward the door. "I'd better check on the caterers. "

  Jordanna watched him leave, not moving until the door to her bedroom had closed. She couldn't shake the feeling that she really didn't know her brother at all. The confused sigh that whispered through the room belonged to her.

  Taking her time, she finished applying her makeup before returning to the bedroom to dress. The sheer simplicity of the black gown made it stunning. Made of a stretchable jersey, the bodice followed the contours of her breasts, the low cleavage revealing the swelling sides that formed the valley between them. The waistline was snug, compressing her ribs and relaxing to flow over her hips.

  The black sheen of the material was a perfect contrast to show off her ivory-smooth shoulders, while accenting the scarlet lights in her hair. Jordanna left it loose, lifting the hair away from her face with a pair of combs. She limited her jewelry to a pair of earrings, plain gold studs polished to a high gloss.

  When she ventured into the hall, there was still a quarter of an hour before the guests were due to arrive. Instead of going to the main section of the apartment, Jordanna turned toward the master suite where her parents had adjoining room, to see if her father was ready.

  The door to her mother's room stood ajar. As Jordanna started to walk past, she heard her father's voice come from within. She stopped, not intending to eavesdrop but only to wait for her father to come out of the room.

  "That's a beautiful gown you're wearing, Olivia, " her father commented. "It intensifies that fascinating green of your eyes. It's new, isn't it?" His words were complimenting, yet there was a sarcastic tone to his voice. Lately, it was always there when he addressed his wife.

  "Yes, it is. Christopher designed it, " her mother announced with a challenging lilt.

  "Ahh, yes, my son the dress designer, " Fletcher declared with a wealth of bitter contempt.

  Shock rippled through Jordanna. She had known there was a chasm between her father and her brother, but she hadn't realized her father regarded him with such derision. She had been aware of his disapproval, but not this.

  "That's enough, Fletcher. " Her mother's defense was immediate. "Christopher is a gifted designer. He will be famous someday. "

  "God help us all when he is. "

  "Be honest for once, Fletcher. You are only thinking of yourself and what others will say about you, " Olivia retorted. "You are concerned that it will reflect badly on you, that perhaps your own manliness will be questioned. "

  "Kit is what you made him, " was the swift, angry reply.

  "Yes, blame me, " she taunted. "Everything is always my fault. I suppose I'm responsible for Jordanna turning into a gun-toting adventuress. I'm sure you'll deny you had anything to do with it. "

  "Leave Jordanna out of this!" her father snapped. "She's a woman. No one would mistake her for anything else. Even when she's carrying a rifle, she's all woman. "

  There was a sound of something being slammed onto a table top. "Why did you come in here, Fletcher? Was it just to start a quarrel before the party?" Olivia demanded. "You aren't going to spoil my evening because I'm not going to let you!"

  "Why? Is this evening special? Have you invited your current lover?" He was arrogantly sarcastic. "Is it anyone I know? I hope you introduce me to him. "

  "If I did, what would you do?" Olivia challenged. "Do you think you might challenge him to a fight? Or would you look the other way and pretend you didn't know he's my lover?" Her mockery of Mm was deliberately cruel. Even Jordanna flinched at it.

  "Who is it, Livvie?" Her father's voice rumbled in a low, ominous threat

  "A man. A very special man. When he holds me, I actually forget that yo
u even exist, Fletcher. It's an extraordinarily pleasant sensation. "

  The bitterness had accumulated to gargantuan proportions over the years of their marriage, until it was too high to be surmounted, too deep to be subverted, and too wide to be bridged. The ugliness was more man Jordanna could stomach. She retreated to her room and closed the door.

  As a child, their venomous arguments had made her physically ill They were no easier to take at twenty-four. Jordanna had no idea how long she had been sitting on the edge of her bed, hugging her arms around her stomach. There was a knock at her door, but she didn't hear it

  The door opened. "Jordanna?" Her brother walked in and paused. "The guests are arriving Aren't you coming?" She glanced up, looking at him but not seeing him. A furrow formed between his dark brows as he walked toward her. "What's the matter?"

  "Why don't they destroy each other and be done with it? Why do they keep tearing each other to pieces bit by bit? At Jordanna's tortured questions, Christopher breathed in deeply, held it, and released it in a weary sigh. "She taunts him with her lovers, Kit. She brags about them as if they were trophies. Why doesn't she leave him?"

  "Do you think she hasn't tried?" he murmured.

  Her eyes widened. "But... " she began in confusion.

  "Dad won't give her a divorce, Jordanna, " he stated. "God knows you and I might have had a more pleasant childhood if he had, but... " There wasn't any need to finish the rest. "You can't let their problems become your burden, Jordanna. Come on. " He extended a hand toward her. "No one will ever see that gown if you stay in this room. " His mouth quirked into a coaxing smile. Jordanna hesitated, then placed her hand in his. As a child, she could hide in her room; but she was an adult and life went on.

  Chapter 5

  Max was waiting in the lobby as Brig stepped out of the elevator. Brig didn't bother with the pleasantries of a meeting. His glance encompassed his cousin and the area immediately around him.

  "Where's your wife? Aren't you taking her to the party?" Brig was irritable and he was taking it out on Max. Dressed in a tan suit and tie, he'd left his hat in the hotel room. He felt naked without it, but less conspicuous.

  "Charlotte and I got a divorce five years ago, shortly after the kids were grown. I thought you knew. " Max started toward the entrance. "We'll catch a cab outside. "

  "I suppose she finally got tired of you stepping out on her all the time. " Brig was aware he was picking on Max, deliberately baiting him, and using him as a scapegoat for the decision that was eating him raw inside. But he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I have often wondered if the only way you get any thrill out of sex is by doing it behind someone's back. "

  "Anyone else but me would punch you in the nose, Brig. " Max held his temper, even though his neck was reddening.

  "Anyone else would try, " he agreed with a taunting smile. I'm surprised you haven't remarried, Max. "

  "As a matter of fact, there is someone I'm serious about, but I'm not about to talk to you about her and subject her name to your insulting comments!" Outside the revolving doors, Max signaled the doorman for a cab. One was immediately waved to the curb and the two men climbed into the back seat "Have you decided what your answer to Fletcher is going to be?"

  "Yes. " A muscle flexed along Brig's jaw.

  "Are you going to keep it a secret?" Max sent him a sideways glance that seemed to know he'd found the jugular vein.

  "I'm going to guide and outfit his hunt. "

  Smugness was written in the deepening corners of Max's mouth and in the glinting depths of his blue eyes. "It's reassuring to know that everyone has a price, Brig—especially you. "

  Bile clawed at his throat "But I didn't have to sell out to you, Max, " Brig reminded him. "I don't have to become involved in your underhanded scheme to dump the company on some rich sucker before it goes down the tube. "

  "But I can still sell my stock. And Fletcher is still interested in it. Even if he loses on the deal, he'll never miss the money. "

  Brig eyed Mm. "You hate Smith, don't you?"

  Max Sanger avoided his gaze. "He has something I want. "

  "Like the old man, you're going to get it if you have to lie, cheat, or steal to do it. " Contempt riddled his voice.

  "I'm going to have my chance. I'm not going under. "

  Guys like Max usually didn't, Brig thought. It was the honest, hard-working men who lost everything they'd worked all their lives to get. It wasn't fair. But life generally wasn't Look at himself. He had com- promised his principles to save the ranch. Maybe he despised Max so much because he saw in him a magnification of one of his own flaws. He'd heard it said that the faults you find with others are the ones you find in yourself.

  The taxi stopped at the address Max had given him. Brig climbed out and waited on the sidewalk. "What floor?" he asked when Max joined him.

  "Top floor penthouse, what else?"

  Brig wondered why he had come. Why hadn't he simply telephoned? He wasn't in the mood for any damned party. Any details could have been settled by phone. But it was too late. He was here, committed to a course of action. Maybe this was Fletcher Smith's way of making him jump at his whistle. That prospect didn't set well with Brig.

  The party was in full swing when they reached the top floor. The ornately carved door couldn't muffle all the sounds of laughter and voices coming from within. Max pushed the doorbell. Within seconds, the door was opened by a man in the black uniformed attire of a butler. Max gave him their names which were discreetly checked against a list before they were ushered through the foyer into the living room.

  A mass of people were already crowded into the room, sitting, standing, talking, laughing, eating, and drinking. A waiter appeared at Brig's elbow and offered champagne from the trayful of glasses he carried. The last time Brig had drunk champagne, he had been living on his grandfather's estate. He took a glass and Max ordered a martini. Brig sipped at the sparkling wine. An eyebrow arched in surprise.

  "You like the champagne, Mr. McCord?" Fletcher Smith paused in front of him, smiling faintly.

  "It's excellent. " Brig studied his glass, noting the color and the natural effervescence.

  "You speak as a man who knows. " Fletcher regarded him with a sideways tilt of his head.

  "My grandfather prided himself on being able to distinguish between a fine wine and one that was merely acceptable. He didn't believe in settling for the latter if he could have the former. Wine-tasting was a part of my education. My grandfather considered it essential knowledge. " One corner of his mouth curved into his dark mustache. "I regarded it as a means of getting drunk. "

  "Obviously you acquired some expertise, " Fletcher remarked.

  "Some people are experts at setting up dominos. " Brig shrugged away the idea that knowing the difference between a good wine and a bad one was worth anything but snob value.

  "I'm glad you could come to the party, Mr. McCord, " Fletcher offered his hand in a greeting that had been postponed until that moment. He turned to Max. "I knew you would be here, Max, but I wasn't so positive that your cousin would come. "

  "Weren't you?" Brig was still in that irritable mood that put a biting edge to his voice. "You know you made me an offer that I couldn't refuse, if you'll pardon the cliche. "

  "Did I?" Brown eyes widened in false surprise. "I hope that means you aren't going to refuse. "

  "I'm not, I'm accepting your offer, " Brig admitted a trifle stiffly.

  "Good. " Fletcher reached inside his jacket and pulled an envelope from his pocket He handed it to Brig "Here's a deposit and a generalized statement of the terms we discussed. You can contact me within a week or so after you've settled on a convenient date. In the meantime, maybe I can talk Max into coming along. "

  Brig didn't bother to open the envelope as he slipped it inside his jacket pocket. Irritation simmered through him. Why had he come to this party? It hadn't been necessary unless the man wanted to gloat over his moment of triumph.

  "This hunt sounds fa
scinating" Max remarked. 'I've never been West before. " Immediately he qualified that. "I have been to California, naturally, and skiing in Aspen several times, but every luxury imaginable is there. The trip you're planning seems to be a tremendous challenge. Maybe I could come hunting with you this time. "

  "You don't have a permit. Max. It's too late to get one. " Fletcher quietly studied him.

  "I'm not really interested in hunting nearly as much as I am in going on the trip, " he countered. Brig guessed why his cousin wanted to go. There would be two, possibly three weeks for Max to convince Fletcher Smith to buy his stock. He would have a captive audience for his sales pitch.

  "The mountains would kill you, Max, " Brig stated. The man was in no shape for such a grueling trek into the high sheep country.

  "It's almost two months away. I have time to get ready for it. " Max appeared unconcerned by Brig's warning as he glanced at Fletcher. "As a matter of fact, we could work out together at the club. "

  "That's true. I hadn't thought of that, " Fletcher agreed and smiled. "I can't think of any reason why you couldn't come along for the ride, can you, McCord?"

  "I can think of a couple, " Brig replied in a grim, flat tone.

  "Don't worry, cousin. I'll pay my share, " Max laughed as if Brig had been making a joke.

  "Excuse me a moment, would you?" Fletcher requested. "My wife is over there. I'd like you to meet her. I'll see if she can spare a few moments. "

  As he moved away into the crowd, Brig darted an irritated look at the man beside him. "You aren't going on this trip, Max. "

  "The man just invited me. You heard what he said. " He rocked back on his heels in satisfaction. His curling black hair glinted with silver in the light of the chandelier overhead.

  "I'm not going to be a party to your schemes, " Brig warned. "If you try to come along, I'll give him back his money and he can find somebody else to take him. "

  "No, you won't. You need that money. " His glance mocked the impotence of Brig's threat.

  Brig swore silently because he knew it was true, but he tried to bluff it out "But I don't need you. My agreement with Fletcher Smith was for a party of two hunters and I'll make him stick with it. "