Sexual Integrity Read online

  With the verdict out, Brooke’s shoulders instantly relaxed.

  “So you’re the Monroe that Ethan told me about,” Harper broke in and then flashed him a look of confusion. “She isn’t anything like you described.”

  “Yeah, I thought you said she had fangs,” Adrianna added with a giggle.

  Again, Brooke rolled her eyes upward to the man hovering over them. Ethan shrugged. “Guess I’m the only one who can see them.”

  So her canines were a little pointy. Her mother had always said it was an adorable feature. Before she could defend herself, Harper gave Ethan’s face a little shove. “Ethan, quit.” Then she spoke to Brooke. “I grew up with the jerk, so I feel your pain. But, believe it or not, he really does have a soft side.”

  A sudden liking for Harper developed in Brooke’s war-torn soul. In spite of their similarities in looks, the woman shared none of Ethan’s nasty traits. “Does he?” she answered. “Guess I’m the only one who can’t see it.”

  Harper laughed, garnering a scowl of disapproval from her brother. At that moment, Brooke wanted to know more about the poor girl who’d been forced to share a womb with Ethan. “Do you live here or are you just visiting?” she asked out of genuine curiosity.

  Harper looked down at her child, who was actively tugging on her shorts. “My husband and I have a winter condo that we’re loaning to Ethan while he looks for his own place.”

  “Oh? In town or on the beach?”

  She dug through her purse and produced a handheld video game for Adrianna. “On the beach near Venetian Bay.”

  That meant a Gulf Shore Boulevard address. “The view must be spectacular,” Brooke said as the environment filled with electronic sound effects. “And we all know how much Ethan appreciates a good view, especially when it doesn’t belong to him.” When she looked up, she saw that his eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits.

  Harper chuckled from behind her palm. “I can certainly feel the love between you two.” Then she leaned down and whispered, “But be gentle. His head isn’t as hard as you think, which we all found out last year when he wrecked his race—”

  “Okay!” Ethan clapped his hands once. “Time for a tour. The princess is getting restless and that game is disrupting the workplace.”

  Before they left, Harper said her goodbyes and the little girl scrunched up her face with an implied warning: Mess with Prince Ethan and she’d get the wand. Brooke waved at Adrianna, knowing Ethan had a devout fan in that one.

  In the aftermath of such an interesting exchange, Brooke was left wondering about the accident Harper had hinted at. It wasn’t hard to see Ethan as an adrenaline junkie, and the photo on his desk of him propped against a white BMW covered with sponsor logos now made perfect sense. There had been other people in the photo with him, but she had refused to linger over it lest someone mistake her interest.

  But she had absolutely no interest in Ethan Wolf. Oh, there was no denying a certain appeal to those penetrating blue-gray eyes…when they weren’t laughing at her. And they were always laughing at her.

  An image of Ethan gallantly fixing the scary chick’s car in the parking lot came to mind. And him escorting an elderly lady during a sunset walk on the beach. To think of him as a nice guy would be to admit her role in drawing out his inner asshole. With a sigh, she concluded they were like oil and water, or fire and gasoline rather. They simply did not mix without an explosive reaction. To men like Ethan—like Brandon—she was an easy target, only this time she refused to take her licks lying down.

  The phone on Ethan’s desk rang. Soon she heard Shannon’s voice through the partition. “Yes, Mr. Troll, I’ll personally hand him the message. I’ll have him call you right away. My pleasure, bye now.”

  Brooke’s first thought was how could such a sweet woman like Harper be friends with a pretentious snob like Shannon? Her second thought was why was Shannon suddenly answering Ethan’s phone?

  Some of her questions were answered later when Ethan’s sister reappeared at her desk. Harper was alone, which meant that Ethan was somewhere showing off his niece, and probably swarmed by adoring women in the process.

  “I don’t mean to bother you,” Harper said as she rested an arm on the partition, “but I feel the need to make some apologies for my brother.”

  “Believe me, that’s not necessary.”

  “I just want you to know he isn’t normally so…difficult. He’s dealing with a lot of changes right now, and he doesn’t like to be told he can’t do something. It pisses him off. Makes him more determined to do it, which is why we worked so hard to get him away from— never mind, you probably aren’t interested in the details.”

  But the woman was clearly itching to provide them. And, damn it, Brooke’s curiosity was peaked. “Is this about the accident you mentioned?” she asked.

  Harper’s light blue eyes reflected gratitude for the green light. “He suffered some pretty bad injuries, some that he’ll never recover from. But the driver who hit him was paralyzed from the waist down, and Ethan at least acknowledges he could have fared worse. He was a good driver, Brooke,” she continued with a hint of adoration. “A really good driver. I mean, he was this close to a podium finish in last year’s Majors Tour.”

  Brooke watched Harper’s thumb and forefinger press together ever so tightly, feeling the woman’s angst. “What’s a Majors Tour?”

  “It’s like NASCAR for the best of the best in amateur racing except with a lot more turns. When he made it in, he was so focused it was scary. I remember thinking the only thing that could keep him from that checkered flag was if someone wiped him out. And that’s exactly what happened.”

  Though Harper was doing her best to keep her regrets from showing, Brooke felt them just the same. She pursed her lips together and nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “He could have avoided being hit, but it would have put him in the grass where there was a camera crew filming the race. Not that he remembers it, but I watched him make that decision, that sacrifice. When his injuries forced him out of the tour for good, it broke his heart. That racetrack is like a drug for him, and it would have only been a matter of time before he did something stupid. So, you see…he needs to be here, away from all that. To discover other hobbies, other obsessions, like golfing or fishing.”

  Ignoring the slight pull on her heart, Brooke focused on the latter. She had quite a few hours of deep-sea fishing under her belt since she’d practically grown up on her parents’ thirty-six-foot trawler. She’d always loved the peace, the downtime, and then the adrenaline rush that came with reeling in a large catch. “I don’t think Ethan would be satisfied with any sport that requires patience,” she deduced with certainty.

  Harper shrugged a slim shoulder. “I just want him to stay long enough to give a different life a chance.”

  The purpose of their conversation was becoming clearer to Brooke. “And you’re afraid he’ll move back home if I win this competition of ours.”

  “Honestly…I don’t think you’ll win.” When Brooke lost what remained of her smile, Harper held up a hand. “And that’s said with the utmost respect toward you. It’s just that Ethan doesn’t lose.”

  Shannon appeared with her pink handbag and a set of keys. “I’m ready whenever you are. Where are Ethan and the munchkin?”

  “Probably stuck in the creative department,” Harper answered with a laugh. “Adrianna was fascinated with all the colors and the gadgets. She asked one of the artists if they were Walt Disney’s elves.”

  While Shannon ushered her away, Harper turned and gave Brooke a quick wave. “Thanks for listening,” she said. “And for the record, I think you’re a very nice person.”

  Friday morning, Brooke found herself in Ken’s office being subjected to a lecture about the conduct expected of Master Ink employees. While he droned on, she drifted in and out of flashbacks of her father there, doling out a similar routine. Then she’d wake up and wonder what the hell this stranger was doing surrounded
by Stanley Monroe’s stuff.

  The wall-to-wall bookshelves, the reserved mahogany furniture he’d chosen from Rhodes when she was only five and hated furniture shopping.

  The Appalachian Brown paint color she and her mother had spent a weekend afternoon applying to the walls.

  It had been quite a project to clear all the clutter in order to get to the walls, yet this stranger preferred it clean and unadorned with the evidence of his long, prosperous career.

  “I didn’t summon you here to hold a private conversation with myself, Ms. Monroe.”

  Brooke tore her gaze from the empty bookshelves and refocused to find Ken’s stout features brimming with impatience. “Huh?”

  His mustache twitched. “Do we need to start over?”

  She swallowed and fidgeted in her seat. “No, sir, I heard you.” It seemed that someone had filed a complaint against her and Roger after all. The fact that Brooke had to defend herself in that light royally pissed her off. She’d worked far too hard to have her reputation sullied by the likes of Ethan. “And I assure you Roger and I are only friends. In fact, I wholeheartedly share your views on interoffice relationships, I always have.”

  Except now she was nursing a bit of a crush on Roger, especially since he hadn’t exactly denied Ethan’s accusation that he’d wanted to sleep with her. Did he? Was that why their recent exchanges had become laced with suggestive undertones that made her want to rip off his clothes?

  Ken blew out a frustrated breath, rubbed at his temples. “So you’re saying that these accusations are unfounded.”

  Harper had warned her that Ethan didn’t lose. Did that mean he’d stop at nothing to win? Brooke held Ken’s stoic gaze and said, “Absolutely. The fact Mr. Wolf would make them just proves how desperate he is to win this competition.”

  “I didn’t say that Ethan made those accusations.”

  She paled at the irritation on her boss’s face. “I’m sorry, I assumed—”

  “You two do a lot of assuming!” Ken’s voice rose as his bald spot grew even pinker. “Frankly, I’m getting tired of the drama, even though I’m partially to blame for agreeing to this damn competition in the first place. I suggest you both grow up before I give that corner office to Shannon instead.”

  “Shannon!”

  “She’s the only one not wreaking havoc on my blood pressure.” His gaze jerked upward. “And what do you want?”

  Brooke realized Ethan must have entered the scene because his negative energy emitted the power of a heat lamp on her back.

  “I just got off the phone with Ted Troll of Romcore,” he said behind her. “It turns out our competitor submitted a lower bid than ours.”

  Ken leaned forward and folded his hands before him. “That bid was at rock bottom. No one could have beaten it and still turned a profit.”

  So that was the message Shannon had taken earlier. It was good news for Brooke since Romcore was a big-enough client to have won Ethan the VP position. As she celebrated on the inside, the two men continued to banter over her head.

  “They could if they beat it by a narrow-enough margin,” Ethan argued, “which they did.”

  Ken’s look darkened with suspicion. “How narrow?”

  “Narrow enough to suggest a leak.”

  Only when a stiff silence followed did Brooke detect the accusation in Ethan’s tone. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the worst. She sat back, dumbstruck for a moment. “You’ve got to be kidding. Now you’re accusing me of corporate espionage?”

  “Nah,” Ethan drawled. “That would suggest you have some kind of vendetta against me.”

  Anger sent her straight out of her chair. “Just the other day you were calling me naïve!”

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” Ethan countered with annoying calm. “Romcore’s isn’t the only bid to fall short by a thin hair. There’ve been others, all mine, all potentially big clients.”

  Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Even if I were losing to you—which I’m not—I wouldn’t be so desperate as to cheat. My ethics are quite intact.”

  His look turned droll. “Somehow I doubt your ethics override your hatred for me.”

  “You pig!”

  “STOP!” Ken’s voice boomed. Brooke jumped and snapped her mouth closed. Once Ken rode out the tense silence for a moment, he spoke quietly. “I think we all need to take a breath.” When Ethan opened his mouth, Ken held up a silencing finger. “If there’s enough evidence to suggest a leak, I assure you it will be thoroughly investigated. In the meantime, I propose we take this competition out of the office.”

  From Ethan, “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you two need to decompress and I need alcohol. Preferably something I can rip the cork out of with my teeth. So during your eleven o’clock lunch break, whoever can find and bring me a bottle of 2010 Duckhorn Cabernet first will get to add this week’s total sales to that of your biggest client. You’ll both be reimbursed for the wine, of course.”

  As they absorbed this odd request, Brooke met Ethan’s intense gaze from his place by the door. Adding more sales—even small ones—to the pot could make a huge difference if their biggest clients were of a similar size.

  Ken barked, “Are you two just going to stare at each other or get me my wine?”

  His words finally broke through their stupor. Brooke spoke over Ethan as she searched for something to write with.

  “What year was that?”

  “Duckhorn what?”

  When Ken repeated his instructions, she scribbled them down on a borrowed pad of sticky notes and then whirled around to beat Ethan out of the office.

  Much to her dismay, he was already gone.

  She found him at his desk audibly asking his phone to search for the nearest liquor stores. They couldn’t leave for another ten minutes, which would give her time to make a few phone calls of her own, so she grabbed her cell and headed toward the hallway of windows where she wouldn’t be overheard.

  The second call scored big. Since she’d made a wine purchase or two in her lifetime, Brooke was somewhat knowledgeable about who was most likely to carry what. And DeBuer Cellars had not one but two bottles of 2010 Duckhorn Cabernet at ninety-five bucks a pop.

  When she ended the call and turned around, she found Ethan standing right behind her. Before she could blast him for eavesdropping, he held up a hand.

  “Hey, I was just headed for the restroom.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet you were,” she raged, shadowing his footsteps all the way down the hall. “And you have the gall to accuse me of cheating.”

  “Brooke, right about now, I couldn’t give a shit what you think of me.” Before pushing through the men’s room door, he stopped and turned suddenly. Brooke stumbled in her heels to avoid a collision. “But now that I know what you’re up to, I’ll do what it takes to win this.”

  “I didn’t leak any information,” she ground out.

  The glint in his eyes told her it was too late. “Whether you did or not, I won’t take the chance.” He pressed a fingertip into her shoulder, giving back what she gave him in the stairwell. “Consider yourself warned.”

  As soon as the digital clock above the conference room showed eleven o’clock, they engaged in yet another race for the stairs. It was raining on the other side of the windows, but this time Brooke didn’t care. Getting wet was worth the sacrifice, and she knew Ethan would be getting wet this time too.

  But by the time he burst through the door, the shower was already over. Typical Florida sunshine filled the stairwell. The clean scent of ozone and wet earth met her the moment she also reached the landing. Brooke kicked off her heels and ran with them in her grasp through the cool puddles. Luckily, she’d scored a much closer parking spot than he.

  Once behind the wheel, she didn’t bother taking the time to roll down a window to relieve the oven-like heat or to even look and see where Ethan was. The tires of her Audi skidded on the wet pavement as she backed up and then
skidded again when she threw it into drive. With a clear path to the exit in front of her, a smile of victory curved her lips.

  A smoky blue sedan came out of nowhere and stopped, blocking her path. Brooke slammed on the brakes, sending rivulets of water down the windshield. “Damn it, get out of the way!” she raged, with her horn blaring.

  Then she looked closer…and saw Shannon behind the wheel, the woman’s smile beaming through the reflection of her own rain-dappled windshield. What the hell? Just then, a yellow-and-black sports coupe zoomed past Shannon’s rear end, claiming the exit first.

  Ethan’s elbow jutted from the open window.

  8

  BROOKE SCREAMED OUT HER FRUSTRATION. When Ethan only smiled and saluted in passing, she rolled down the window and threatened to ram Shannon’s car. With a casual whistle on her lips, the woman finally moved out of the way.

  Brooke floored the gas pedal. Within seconds, she was at the first intersection with her blinker on. Only then did she turn on the wipers to clear her view. Ethan was three cars ahead in the same lane. Since she was no match for someone who’d done his share of competitive driving, she took that moment to reach for her phone and hit redial.

  “DeBuer Cellars, may I help you?”

  She put a pleasant smile on her face, hoping to project it through the phone. “Hello, is Sid working today?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “May I speak with him, please?” The arrow turned green and the line of cars began to move.

  “He’s in the back. Let me get him for you.”

  “Thank you.” While Brooke was on hold, she noticed that the cars weren’t moving. When she craned her neck to look, it was to find a yellow-and-black sports car blocking the way. The car behind Ethan honked. She honked too. As precious seconds ticked by, more cars in the lane began to honk. Just as it hit Brooke what he was doing, the arrow turned yellow and Ethan slowly gave his car gas. Just one more car was able to get through behind him, leaving Brooke and the rest to wait for the next green arrow. As her anger doubled, someone leaned out their window and yelled, “Asshole!”