Breaking Bailey's Rules

This wasn’t usually how it worked with her and men. Most of the time she thought of them as a nuisance, not an attraction.

“You okay?”

The truck had slowed down for traffic again and she took a quick glance over at him, then wished she hadn’t when she saw he was gazing at her with those gorgeous dark eyes. “Yes. Why would you think not?”

“You shivered just now.”

He had to have been watching her mighty close to have known that. “Just felt a little chill.”

“Then maybe I should turn up the heat.”

Turn up the heat?

She was feeling hot enough already!

* * *

Breaking Bailey’s Rules is part of New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson’s Westmorelands series—A family bound by loyalty … and love!

Breaking

Bailey’s Rules

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA JACKSON is a New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred romance titles. Brenda lives in Jacksonville, Florida, and divides her time between family, writing and traveling.

Email Brenda at [email protected] or visit her on her website at www.brendajackson.net.

To the man who will always and forever be the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

Pleasant words are a honeycomb. Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

—Proverbs 16:24

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

Hugh Coker closed his folder and looked up at the five pairs of eyes staring at him.

“So there you have it. I met with this private investigator, Rico Claiborne, and he’s convinced that you are descendants of someone named Raphel Westmoreland. I read through his report and although his claims sound pretty far-fetched, I can’t discount the photographs I’ve seen. Bart, every one of your sons could be a twin to one of those Westmorelands. The resemblance is that strong. I have the photographs here for you to look at.”

“I don’t want to see any photographs, Hugh,” Bart Outlaw said gruffly, getting out of his chair. “Just because this family might look like us doesn’t mean they are related to us. We are Outlaws, not Westmorelands. And I’m not buying that story about a train wreck over sixty years ago where some dying woman gave her baby to my grandmother. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He turned to his four sons. “Outlaw Freight Lines is a multimillion-dollar company and people will claim a connection to us just to get what we’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

Garth Outlaw leaned back in his chair. “Forgive me if I missed something, Dad, but didn’t Hugh say the Westmorelands are pretty darn wealthy in their own right? I think all of us have heard of Blue Ridge Land Management. They are a Fortune 500 company. I don’t know about the rest of you, but Thorn Westmoreland can claim me as a cousin anytime.”

Bart frowned. “So what if they run a successful company and one of them is a celebrity?” he said in a cutting tone. “We don’t have to go looking for any new relatives.”

Maverick, the youngest of Bart’s sons, chuckled. “I believe they came looking for us, Dad.”

Bart’s frown deepened. “Doesn’t matter.” He glanced at Hugh. “Send a nice letter letting them know we aren’t buying their story and don’t want to be bothered again. That should take care of it.” Expecting his orders to be obeyed, Bart walked out of the conference room, closing the door behind him.

Sloan Outlaw stared at the closed door. “Are we going to do what he says?”

“Do we ever?” his brother Cash asked, grinning while watching Hugh put the papers back in his briefcase.

“Leave that folder, Hugh,” Garth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think the old man forgot he’s no longer running things. He retired a few months ago, or did I imagine it?”

Sloan stood. “No, you didn’t imagine it. He retired but only after the board threatened to oust him. What’s he’s doing here anyway? Who invited him?”

“No one. It’s Wednesday. He takes Charm to lunch on Wednesdays” was Maverick’s response.

Garth’s brow bunched. “And where is Charm? Why didn’t she attend this meeting?”

“Said she had something more important to do,” Sloan said of their sister.

“What?”

“Go shopping.”

Cash chuckled. “Doesn’t surprise me. So what are we going to do Garth? The decision is yours, not the old man’s.”

Garth threw a couple of paperclips on the table. “I never mentioned it, but I was mistaken for one of those Westmorelands once.”

Maverick leaned across the table. “You were? When?”

“Last year, while I was in Rome. A young woman, a very beautiful young woman, called out to me. She thought I was someone named Riley Westmoreland.”

“I can see why she thought that,” Hugh said. “Take a look at this.” He opened the folder he’d placed on the conference room table earlier and flipped through until he came to one photograph in particular. He pulled it out and placed it in the center of the table. “This is Riley Westmoreland.”