Found at the Jazz Club Page 2

  After realizing exactly who Brady was, Emily had hopped a plane to New York City rather than her home base in Denver. With Mac off on his honeymoon, she didn’t really have a reason to be in Denver right now anyway.

  She kept an apartment here for when she had to come to town to do work with the family company, Hodges Media, but those were always quick visits. This tiny apartment suited her purposes perfectly.

  She tried to ignore the fact that since she and Trace divorced, this apartment felt more like home than her big, empty house did. Her heart bucked just like it did anytime she thought about Trace. She’d thought they’d be together forever, and now, she was trying to chase down husband number four.

  A headache pulsed behind her temples.

  Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “Please tell me you got through to his people,” she asked her assistant, Lorelei.

  Lorelei laughed. “Yeah...no. I’m thinking you’re more likely to get into Fort Knox than you are to see this guy.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Emily, who is this guy? Why do you need in to see him so badly?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If anyone got wind that the two of them had gotten married, the media would be all over both of them...especially Brady, who was more infamous, although the tabloids had always enjoyed sensationalizing her ups and downs in romance before. That was what happened when you were heiress to Hodges Media and stood to inherit approximately fifty billion dollars.

  But she kept out of the main part of the company. Her only interest lay in the publishing side. Her dad and ex-stepbrother were the driving force behind HM, and she stayed out of their way.

  “Emily?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure out another way to get hold of him. Thanks for trying, Lorelei.”

  “No problem. Are you planning to head into Hodges Media while you’re in town?” Both Lorelei and Emily worked out of Denver, but the main part of the publishing company resided under the HM umbrella and office building in New York.

  Someplace she had no desire to see right now. It was bad enough she had to come in once a month for board meetings. She really didn’t want to deal with all the politics and her dad while she was here handling this debacle.

  If she did this right, he would never know she was in town.

  For once, Emily had actually taken the entire month of the holidays off. She’d known that with Mac’s sudden wedding, things would be crazy, and she’d been going at it hard for years without a vacation.

  She’d been toying with the idea of hitting a beach somewhere, but it honestly just sounded like so much work. And now, she was focusing all her time and energy on tracking down Brady. If she were smart, she’d just hire a private detective to make contact with him and be done with the entire ordeal so she could jaunt off on that vacation to work on writing the book as she’d planned.

  But no, all this had given her the perfect excuse and something else to focus on besides the manuscript she was ignoring on her laptop. The one she’d promised Mac that she’d work on this month.

  She blew out a sigh as she flicked on the remote for the television. “No,” she told Lorelei. “I’m perfectly happy with them never knowing I was in town unless you need me to go in for something. Otherwise, I’m sticking with my original plan.”

  “Okay, well, good luck with the elusive Mr. Gresham and with your writing.”

  “Thanks. Have a great holiday, Lorelei.”

  Her writing. Emily eyed the laptop case discarded in the corner of the room. It hadn’t been cracked open since she’d arrived in town a week ago.

  Even with the guilt over that, she still didn’t reach for her computer. Instead, she stared blindly at the television screen. Until her missing husband’s face flashed on the screen.

  She fumbled for the remote to unmute the sound.

  The reporter said, “Rumors are flying after Brady Gresham, the famous songwriter and infamous playboy of the Gresham family, was seen earlier this week, exiting Tiffany’s with a small blue bag. Could he have been buying a ring for his girlfriend, Anya Nilsson? The two have been romantically linked for years, although he’s also been linked with many others within that time frame.”

  The screen showed Brady with the aforementioned Anya at various functions and then filled with photo after photo of Brady with a different tall, modelesque beauty in his arms every time. He definitely got around.

  Emily clutched at her stomach. This shouldn’t bother her. She had no claim on him despite what the marriage certificate said. They’d just been having fun.

  The same kind of fun she was sure he’d been having with every single one of those other women. Her heart clenched.

  The reporter droned on and on about Anya and Brady’s dating history. “All eyes will be on the youngest Gresham this week at the huge annual holiday family party. It’s no secret that this is a family that does everything together from their holidays and family trips to award-winning musical scores and soundtracks. This party event would be the perfect venue to pop the big question.

  “But everyone knows that Brady Gresham is vying for the contract on the coveted soundtrack for the upcoming Casablanca remake. He may be waiting for that big news before he jumps the gun and into a marriage with the very busy model. Because after that, his time will be very limited.

  “Who knows? We may need to start staking out the Vegas wedding chapels...”

  Ice slid down Emily’s spine. It was too late for that. But crap. Did Brady even realize they were married? She only remembered bits and pieces of that night, and Brady had been just as snockered as her. And since he hadn’t been trying to get hold of her, he probably had no clue. She had to get to him before he broke the law and married another woman.

  Luckily, the trashy gossip show had just told her how she could get to him.

  She glanced down at the gold and diamond watch her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday. If she timed this right and if her stepbrother, Austin, was on schedule today, she could make it into the Hodges Media offices without her father being any wiser.

  She went around the corner from her living area and quickly changed clothes. Twenty-two minutes later, Emily was leaning up against Austin’s car when he walked out of the building. At first, he looked confused since she wore a huge hat that hid her face, but then he focused on the Mocha Mermaid cup in her hand. Austin knew it was her favorite coffee shop, and she always brought him a cup when she met with him, if they didn’t actually meet at the quaint shop.

  Austin’s driver held a matching cup, which he raised in a mock toast.

  Austin strode up and took the proffered cup from Emily, although he glared at his driver. “It’s good to know that I can be sold out for a salted-caramel latte,” Austin muttered as he pulled the back door of his car open and waved Emily inside.

  “Aw, don’t be bitter because he loves me more than you, Austin.” She leaned up and brushed a kiss across her ex-stepbrother’s cheek. “Hello, love.” She slipped into the car.

  “You look gorgeous as ever, Emily.” He sat down beside her and raised an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining about coffee delivery and you gracing me with your presence all the way from Colorado, but what are you doing here? And a better question is...why haven’t you been into the office to visit me?”

  She gave him a wink. “Couldn’t it be that I just miss seeing your face?”

  Once upon a time, Austin had been her stepbrother. Their parents had gotten married when she was sixteen and he was seventeen. Austin had been an only child who had been confused and scared about what his sexuality would mean for his future, and he’d found an ally in Emily. She’d already had one other gay stepsibling earlier in life, so she hadn’t questioned supporting him.

  Her dad’s marriage to his mom only lasted a few years, but Austin’s connection with Emily and her father had made him family for life. They were closer than most real siblings.

  Austin lau
ghed. “Um, no, I’m not buying it. What’s up, Em?”

  She winced and grimaced. “I need your help. I don’t suppose you got an invite to the Gresham’s holiday party, did you?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly as he gave her a sidelong look. “But I already sent my regrets. Why?”

  “Because I need to go, and you’re going to be my escort.”

  “Did you not just hear me? I already told them I wasn’t coming.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They invited you in the first place. No one is going to be at the door checking your RSVP against your attendance. It’s not a high school prom. Besides, Hodges Media is probably one of that family’s biggest employers between television and movie music. You can’t tell me they’ll turn away the CEO of the company.”

  While her father and she owned the most shares, Austin had been made CEO years ago. He was the driving force behind the bulk of the HM executive decisions as her father slowly moved toward retirement.

  “Maybe you should explain a little more why you need to go so badly. This isn’t your crowd and never has been. Why the change of heart?”

  She blew out a sigh. “I kind of screwed up, and I’m trying to fix it.” Then she went on to explain what exactly happened in Vegas and why she had to see Brady Gresham as soon as possible.

  When she finished, Austin rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you call me a week ago? I could have gotten you in to see him no problem. But the party is tonight, and you’re right, if there’s even the slightest possibility that he’s about to ask someone to marry him, you have got to stop him to get this taken care of first. What time is it?”

  She glanced at her watch. “Half past four.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up at your apartment in three hours, but you owe me for having to put on a tux.”

  “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  His eyes gleamed. “I want to see Mac’s next book when he finishes it.” Her best friend, Mac was actually best-selling author Robert McIntire. As his agent and manager, she was the lucky gal who got to see his work before anyone else.

  “Done. Lucky for you, he sent it to me right before his wedding. I have it on my computer and will send it to you after the party.”

  “After? Why not before?”

  “Because it’s good, and once you start it, you won’t want to stop reading it. I can’t have you reneging on our deal. I’ll send it to you after the party.”

  He sighed heavily. “You’re just a big tease, aren’t you?”

  “You know it.” A big tease and a big ball of nerves. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Tonight, she’d crash a huge party and then have to face her new husband probably while his girlfriend hung on his arm. This promised to be fun...

  Chapter Four

  Brady had made a mistake, bringing Anya to the family party. They’d been friends who had occasionally slept together for years, and he’d thought they’d both been on the same page about that. But she seemed much more clingy and expectant than normal tonight. She’d even hinted at spending the holidays together.

  No, not going to happen. Even if he wanted more with her—which he didn’t—the holidays were for family and family only.

  Even bringing her here tonight went against his unspoken rules about women. Bringing a woman to an event like this with all his family in attendance gave them the wrong idea. He should have talked to her about this before they’d come tonight, but he’d thought she understood how things stood between them. Evidently, he’d been wrong. And now, he would pay the price.

  Dammit, why had he decided to come? He’d almost cancelled. It had been a crap week to end all crap weeks since his music-writing muse had decided to take a walk just twelve hours after returning from Vegas.

  It didn’t help that he’d been plagued by haunting dreams about Emily. He wasn’t sure how many of them were dreams or if they were memories from those hours he couldn’t recall. The result had been horrible insomnia and exhaustion that sure wasn’t helping his songwriting any. He should have stayed home tonight.

  He was in an awful mood, and dealing with Anya wasn’t helping.

  “Darling,” Anya cooed in his ear. She waved to someone across the room. “There’s your mother. Let’s go say hello.”

  Fuuuck.

  “Not right now.” He turned her in the opposite direction to try to distract her. “Let’s go listen to the band.”

  With his musical family, it took a strong, confident musician to be able to come and play live music at one of their parties, but this small jazz band playing Christmas classics was phenomenal, especially the lead singer singing I’ll Be Home For Christmas right now.

  Anya pouted slightly but followed his lead.

  Again, he kicked himself for bringing her. He knew better, but hadn’t wanted to make the effort to find another date. And showing up alone wasn’t an option. If his mom and aunts got it in their heads that he needed someone in his life, the setups would never end. They didn’t understand that he was too young and had too many goals to achieve to even consider settling down right now even if he did meet the right woman.

  Across the room, he saw a flash of hair the same shade of blonde as Emily’s, and his body tightened at the unbidden memory of seeing her for the first time in Vegas. From behind, that neck looked just like the one he’d spent last weekend feasting on. His dick went half hard.

  “What is it?” Anya followed his gaze, brushing up against him. She gasped when she found his erection and cupped his hard length. “Mmm, I like what you’re thinking,” she growled low.

  That was a sound that used to instantly turn him on. Not so much tonight as his dick deflated.

  “Is there a back room someplace where we can get away for a few minutes?” Her gaze became sultry and predatory.

  He stepped back from her reach, making sure his tuxedo coat covered his groin.

  Lucky for him, his cousin, Monroe, chose that moment to interrupt. “I’m sorry, Anya, but I need to borrow Brady for a moment.”

  Her lips thinned with a flare of irritation, but she nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Of course. As long as you bring him right back.”

  “Definitely.” Monroe led Brady away from Anya’s clutches.

  “Thanks, cuz, I owe you one.”

  Monroe laughed. “I didn’t do it for you. Why did you bring her here? Have you been paying attention to the tabloids at all?”

  “Why would I pay attention to that crap?”

  Monroe rolled his eyes. “Because then, my clueless cousin, you would know that all the outlets are reporting that you’re about to pop the big question, which explains why she’s been extra laser-focused tonight.”

  Brady stopped walking to gape at him in shock. “Seriously?”

  Snorting, Monroe grabbed hold of Brady’s arm and pulled him to a private sitting room. “Completely. You’d better watch out, or you’re going to find yourself married before you even realize it.” He shook his head at Brady’s cluelessness, but then he gestured at the closed door before them. “There’s a woman behind that door who was insistent that she speak to you.”

  Brady frowned at him. “Since when do you enable the stalkers?”

  “Damn, man, when did you turn into such a cynic?”

  “Probably about the same time the tabloids started reporting on my love life.”

  Monroe shrugged. “Well, this one is your problem now, but you probably should play nice.” With those cryptic words, Monroe slipped away and left Brady staring at the closed door.

  Monroe would never throw him to a woman who just wanted to bed the famous Brady Gresham for the night, so there must be something else going on. Staring at the door wouldn’t answer any of those questions, so he knocked lightly to give warning before he opened the door.

  The music room that also served as his father’s office was dark with only a couple of small lamps lit, but that didn’t hide the gorgeous female in the middle of the room, wearing an emerald green dress. The same
gorgeous female who’d been haunting his dreams every night. What was she doing here? “Emily?”

  “Surprise,” she said softly as she gave him a wary smile. “Sorry to ambush you here, but you’re a tough man to get hold of. You’ll have to tell me the secrets of your security. My dad may be interested.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her hand over her hair. “Sorry. I’m nervous, and obviously, I ramble when I get nervous. I never realized that before.” She frowned. “Shutting up now.”

  She looked good—embarrassed and completely mortified—but even more beautiful than he remembered. Her long blonde hair had been pulled into a tight bun with a few wispy curls drifting across that tantalizing neck. Her long, green dress clung to every curve with a forties-style sophistication that took his breath away. She wore silver strappy stilettos that he already could imagine wrapped around his waist while he surged inside of her. Tonight, she looked elegant and poised, like she’d fit right in here with the very highest of the upper class of Manhattan.

  She took his breath away.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” She blushed.

  He took a step deeper into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  And how had she gotten in? Did he need to worry that she was stalking him?

  She gave him a hesitant smile that morphed into a frown. “I need to talk to you about something. Do you remember much about that last night in Vegas?”

  He frowned as he shook his head slowly. Had something happened? “Bits and pieces mainly. But no. We were really drunk. I don’t even know if what I’m remembering is real or dreams.”

  She blew out a breath. “Well, that’s a relief. At least I know you aren’t just blowing me off.”

  He stepped over to her, not able to stay away any longer. He reached for her, and she stepped back. “What’s going on?”

  She opened her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper and something else cupped in her palm. She passed the paper over to him.

  The prickle of unease on the back of his neck warned him that whatever this was, it wasn’t good. He took it but didn’t unfold it, just looked to her for explanation.