"Well, if that's the case, that means your body is mine and you can model too. You have Erickson beauty too."
He blanched. "Whatever the camera feels about me. It isn't love. Not even close."
I laughed. "Well, that's too bad because you are the exact image I want. A jet setter with the air of intrigue and a little danger."
He sat for a moment and then said, "What about Noel St. Martin? He's rich, a jet setter with an air of intrigue and danger."
"I doubt he'll do it. He seems to be keeping to himself more, according to Lane. He bought a house in a really remote part of Southern California near the beach."
Bran arched a brow. I knew that look. That look was the one he used when he was scheming.
I leaned back to look him in the eyes. "What are you thinking?"
"The remote place by the ocean. Sounds like the exact type of place Harper is looking for, don't you think?"
I rolled my eyes. Of course, he’d try to find a way to have the head of a security firm be neighbors with Harper.
"You're incorrigible, you know that?"
He shrugged. "The very least we could ask her to talk to him about being your model since he’s not working much. Harper has a way of convincing people."
"Isn't that what got her in trouble with the stalker?"
He shuddered. I felt bad for bringing back a difficult time in his and Harper's life.
"That she did on her own. I never asked her to schmooze with Kerby."
"Still, you’ve only just gotten out of hot water with Harper. Do you really want to go doing something that's going to upset her again?"
He grinned. "Isn't that what brothers are for? To annoy their little sisters."
The foreman on the construction job poked his head in the door. "The crew and I are going on lunch. There was a gentleman out there wanting to see you Mrs. Erickson."
A thrill went through me. It always happened when somebody called me Mrs. Erickson. "Thank you, Josh."
Bran stood and reached his hands out to help me up.
I pressed my hand on my belly. “If this little person gets any bigger, you’ll need pulleys and levers to get me up."
I stepped out from the back area into the open showroom. But I stopped short when I saw my father standing in the middle of the room.
Bran put his arm around me protectively. "What do you want George?" Bran’s tone made it clear that my father was unwelcome.
My father looked at me. His gaze scanned down to my pregnant belly. He lifted his gaze again. I saw tears in his eyes. "You look just like your mother."
"I suppose that just gives you another reason to hate me."
He shook his head vehemently, taking a step forward. "I don't hate you, Anne. I never did."
"The hell you didn't. Get out of here." Bran pointed toward the door.
My father's eyes widened in shock and maybe fear at Bran's lethal voice. He took a step back, but didn't leave.
“Your mother was my world and when she died in childbirth, I died with her. I was so angry and resentful, and I took that out on you, eventually shutting you out of my life because of the pain. The older you got, the more you resembled your mother and every time I looked at you, I saw her and all the pain was here again." He pressed his hand over his heart.
"You are a weak mother fucker to treat Anne the way you did,” Bran sneered.
My father nodded.