Something powerful tightened in Vanessa’s stomach. She turned away for a second, to smile at the other eight people seated at the table. Had she imagined it, or did they all look at her with sympathetic eyes?
“Why haven’t you called?” Vanessa heard the woman question him as if no one existed at the table but Brock.
Brock hesitated to answer for a second. “Vanessa,” he said, and she closed her eyes briefly before turning around to glance at him. “Will you excuse me? I’ll be right back.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
Brock nodded and excused himself to the others seated at their table. Vanessa watched him walk away with Larissa on his arm.
Fiona Davis, the older woman seated next to her, laid a gentle hand on her arm. “She’s the Association president’s daughter. I wouldn’t worry too much. She’s engaged, though she is a bit of a flirt.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Vanessa blurted. “I mean to say, this isn’t what it looks like. Mr. Tyler is my employer. We’re here on business.”
Fiona sent her a motherly smile and said quietly, “Maybe you are, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening. He’s eligible, handsome as the devil and rich. I wouldn’t dismiss his interest in you so easily.” Fiona sighed longingly. “Dare I say the old cliché, he’s a catch?”
Vanessa stared into Fiona’s soft brown eyes. “What if I’m not fishing?”
She smiled knowingly. “Ah, you don’t want to get involved. Someone hurt you?”
“Yes,” Vanessa admitted. She’d been hurt in the past. She’d been dumped for another woman when she was younger more than once. She’d lost her high school sweetheart to a girl with an IQ of a snail. Later on, she figured they deserved what they’d gotten since they’d cheated on each other and wound up hating one another. And in college, she’d almost gotten engaged, until she found her would-be fiancé in bed with her roommate. The shock had crippled her for a time and made her wary of men, but she’d gotten over the hurt long ago. This time, it wasn’t about her. She was doing this for Melody—standing up for her sister, who’d been devastated by Brock Tyler’s hurtful dismissal of her. “I’ve been hurt before. And it’s too soon for another involvement.”
She’d transposed Melody’s hurt onto herself for Fiona’s benefit. It made her feel less like a liar to the kindhearted woman. Lord knows she’d lied to enough people since she’d come to the island.
“I understand. Before I met my late husband, I had a crushing experience.”
For fifteen minutes, Vanessa listened to Fiona speak about her past hurts and how she’d managed to recuperate from them. They were the last ones left at the table and when Fiona also had to leave, Vanessa bid her farewell and got up to use the ladies’ room.
She headed past the anteroom and down the hallway, clutching her purse in her hand, her anger at Brock over his abandonment of her in the ballroom building. When she spotted him outside on the plush grounds, standing arm in arm with the black-haired what’s-her-name, she came to a halt, pivoted around abruptly and headed for the lobby where she promptly summoned a cab to take her home.
“Let him look for me,” she muttered, then thought better of it. She couldn’t afford to get fired. She wrote a quick note and handed it to the valet before getting into the cab. “Give this to Mr. Brock Tyler. He’s the one with the silver Mercedes.”
She had things to do early in the morning. She didn’t want to rush him away from the event. She needed her rest.
That’s what she’d written on the note and what she’d tell him tomorrow if asked.
Vanessa ignored the pangs of jealousy she felt seeing him with that woman and hated Brock all the more for making her feel that way.
She rested her head on the back of the cab’s seat and closed her eyes, going over her plan for the Fashion Institute’s Valentine’s Day Gala. “Brock Tyler, you’ll get yours tomorrow.”
The doorbell rang three times in succession, the incessant chimes rattling her eardrums. “Just a minute,” she called out, tossing her arms through her silk robe and tying the sash. She padded to the door and peeked out the peephole.
Oh, God.
Brock.
“Open the door, Vanessa.”
Judging from the tone of his voice and the hard look in his eyes, he wasn’t a happy man.
Vanessa filled her lungs with oxygen and opened the door.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Brock didn’t wait for an invitation. He entered her humble condo then whirled around on her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered calmly.
“I mean when I take a woman out, I fully expect to be the one to deposit her back home safely. You walked out on me. I don’t think any woman has done that before.”
The mystified expression on his face stymied her for a second. Then on impulse, she laughed at the absurdity. “I’m sorry.” She covered her hand to her mouth, yet she couldn’t hide her amusement. “It’s not funny, but you should see the look on your face.”
A tick worked his jaw. Obviously, he wasn’t amused. “Vanessa, answer my question. Why in hell did you leave?”
“Did you get my note?”
“After searching for you for ten minutes.”
Vanessa smiled to herself. He’d been dumped, if even for ten minutes, and he hadn’t liked how it felt. Payback could be sheer pleasure at times. “I’m sorry if you were inconvenienced,” she said sincerely.
He frowned.
“I told you in the note that I didn’t want to hold you up. You were busy with whatever her name was, and I needed to get to bed early tonight.”
“Damn it. I was talking business with Larissa Montrayne. She’s getting married and wanted to ask me some questions. Do you know what it would mean if she decided to have her wedding at Tempest?”
“It’d be huge?”
“Right. It would be huge.”
“But shouldn’t those questions have been asked of your event planner? I thought that’s the whole reason you brought me with you tonight.”
“Larissa needs personal attention. She’s…tempera-mental.”
“You mean she’s spoiled.”
A corner of his mouth cocked up. “Maybe.”
“And she wanted your undivided attention.”
“If you hadn’t hightailed it out of Dodge so quickly, you might have had a chance to talk with her. I brought her back to the table and you were gone.”
“That must have been awkward.” Vanessa pictured that scenario, relishing the images drifting into her mind.
“I was concerned.”
“For me?”
“Like I said, no one has ever walked out on me like that.”
“So you thought maybe someone kidnapped me? Or maybe I fell and hit my head in the ladies’ room?”
Brock drew his brows together. “When I got your note, I was furious.”
“You’d rather I’d hit my head and was lying unconscious somewhere?”
He stared at her.
“Are you going to fire me?”
“Fire you?” Again his brows furrowed and he shook his head. “Vanessa, I’m just trying to figure you out.”
She shrugged and walked toward the front door, a gesture to let him know it was time to leave. “There’s nothing much to figure out. I told you the reason I left.”
“Couldn’t be that you were jealous?”
Vanessa wrapped her arms tight around her middle and shook her head. “Of course not.”
Brock made a move toward the door and she thought he’d finally taken the hint. When he gently closed the door and turned to her, she realized she’d been mistaken. “Larissa thought you were. She apologized for monopolizing my time.”
“I bet she did,” Vanessa mumbled. That woman’s eyes sparkled with glee when she’d successfully orchestrated Brock’s sole attention.
He shot her a knowing look. “I was hopping mad when you took off.” His tone mellowed and his gaze flowed over her softly.
/> “And now?” Vanessa feared his answer.
“Now, I’m flattered.”
“Brock, don’t tell me your ego needs stroking.”
“No, not my ego.” He sent her a sinful smile, one filled with so much hunger, her knees buckled.
She turned away from him and tried to block out the tempting look on his face and the way his strong voice had taken on a softer edge.
This was crazy. She was crazy. She couldn’t let him get to her this way. She had been jealous, which was ridiculous. She’d come to Maui for the sole purpose of ruining his reputation. She’d wanted to hit him where it hurt the most.
“I think you should leave.” She whirled around to face him only to find him directly in front of her now, his jacket and tie tossed aside. His shirt unbuttoned at the throat. How had he done that so fast?
Her pulse reeling, she swallowed and blinked her eyes away from the bronzed skin peeking out from his shirt.
Brock laid his hands on her waist and drew her closer, his voice a whisper near her ear. “I’m dying to know what’s under this robe.”
She wanted to say he’d never find out, but his mouth descended on hers and obliterated all thought. His hands slid from her waist to her derriere and he cupped her, pressing gently and bringing her up against his hips. Her thin silky robe did little to protect her from the strength of his body.
She savored the taste of whiskey and desire on his lips, burning her with his hunger. She met his greedy demand and roped her arms around his neck. His kisses urgent and needy, both of them were wrapped up in a moment of ecstasy.
Brock brought her with him as he stepped backward until he met with the wall. Then he pivoted, taking her with him, until she replaced his position. She arched her head back, and he drizzled hot wet kisses from her lips to her chin, her throat and down to the V of her robe.
She felt a tug and her sash released from the tie. Her robe parted, leaving the center of her body uncovered. Brock glanced at her red lace bra and thong panties and a guttural groan escaped the depths of his throat.
“Vanessa,” he whispered with warm breath. “You don’t disappoint.”
He kissed the valley between her breasts then fingered the lace of her bra, teasing her with light butterfly caresses. She ached for him to touch more of her, to bend his head and mouth her breasts until her nipples pebbled hard.
But instead, he reached down lower, his hand skimming her torso and traveling below her navel. He dipped under her panties and cupped her between the thighs.
“Oh,” she sighed softly, the tingling shock and pleasure of his touch creating tremors.
He brought his lips to hers again, claiming her with his tongue and driving deep inside, while he stroked her womanhood slowly, exquisitely.
She closed her eyes and allowed him full access. She grew moist instantly and he stroked her harder, with more demand. She surrendered to his caresses and the tremors built. She moved on him now, her body in rhythm to his delicious mouth and his expert hand. She swayed and rocked back and sighed out her pleasure.
“Brock,” she pleaded, her pleasure heightened to the limit.
He continued to stroke her most sensitive spot. “Come for me, honey. Now.”
His words threw her over the edge. She splintered into a thousand tiny fragments, her release fast and hard. Breathing heavy, her breasts full and her nerves quaking, she moaned with frenzied delight.
The climax left her boneless. With heavy lids, she opened her eyes to find Brock watching her with a hot steamy gleam in his eyes.
He smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You should see the look on your face.”
He tossed her comment back at her, and she bit her lip, ready to react, until he added, “It’ll haunt my dreams tonight.”
He picked up his suit jacket and tie and walked out of her condo.
Leaving her satisfied and wanton, and more than slightly confused.
Five
T iming was everything in this world but this time it didn’t work in Brock’s favor. He’d left a willing woman in the throes of passion and walked out on her.
To catch a plane to Los Angeles.
If it had been business instead of a family matter, Brock would have postponed the flight without blinking an eye. He’d be in bed with Vanessa Dupree right now, instead of sitting on the Tempest jet, traveling in the dead of night to make an engagement luncheon in Beverly Hills for his mother and her fiancé, Matthew Lowell.
Vanessa posed a challenge and Brock couldn’t remember when he’d had a harder time trying to get a lady interested. She’d been on his mind a lot lately. And tonight he’d planned on a romantic evening and afterward, making sweet love to her.
Damn her for pulling that stunt at the dinner and throwing his well-planned evening into a confused, frustrating mess. If she were anyone else, he’d dismiss her as being more trouble than she was worth. Completely high maintenance, but not in a demanding, spoiled rich-bitch way. No, Vanessa had qualities that unnerved him. She was smart, charming, capable and adept at everything she did. Now that he knew her, now that he’d seen the glint of sizzling passion in her eyes, the way her body rocked sensually to his ministrations, the way little moans of ecstasy escaped her lips, Brock had to know more. He had to have her. Possess her. In every way.
Hell, he liked her.
More than he had liked a woman in a very long time.
There was something unique and mystifying about Vanessa Dupree. She’d been hot and ready and seeing her face when she’d combusted in his arms pulled at him in a dozen different ways. He’d been in awe. He’d been shaken.
The thought of making love to her quickly then running to catch a plane didn’t appeal to him. He wanted time with her. Enough time to explore every inch of her and drive them both into oblivion. So Brock had left her, never to forget the look of lust on her pretty face, the melting softness in her eyes and the feel of her dewy damp skin under his fingertips, just before he’d walked out the door.
“Go to sleep, Brock,” he mumbled as he stretched out on the sofa. As the jet’s engine purred, he closed his eyes, banishing any more thoughts of Vanessa and hoping that his prediction tonight wouldn’t come true—she wouldn’t haunt his dreams.
The following morning, Brock exited his hotel room at Tempest Beverly Hills and met his family precisely at noon in a small private elegant dining room.
He came up behind his mother and pulled her into his arms. “Hi, Mom.”
Rebecca turned around and smiled. “Brock, you made it.”
The warm glow in her eyes and the happiness on her face told Brock all he needed to know—Matthew Lowell was a fine man. He couldn’t replace his father, but he’d make his mother happy and that’s what mattered the most. “I wouldn’t miss it. Flew all night to get here.”
Matthew stepped up and shook his hand. “Brock, glad to see you again.”
“Same here.” Brock assessed Matthew, who was his brother Trent’s soon-to-be father-in-law. The older man had a contented gleam in his eyes. “Congratulations, you’re getting a great woman.” Brock wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I know,” Matthew said. “I’m a lucky man. I have a new grandson and when I thought life couldn’t get any better, I fell in love.”
“He’s marrying a grandmother,” Rebecca added. “Goodness, I can hardly believe it.”
His mother couldn’t be more pleased that Evan and Laney had a son and that more grandchildren were probably on the way. Trent and Julia wanted a family, too. Once again, Brock was the black sheep in the Tyler family. Heck, even his best friend, Code, was married and going to be a father. Sarah was halfway through her pregnancy.
Brock wasn’t the marrying kind and he’d never thought of himself as father material. It was a good thing that his brothers had picked up the slack.
When Laney and Evan walked in, all focus went to the little boy named after their deceased father, John Charles Tyler.
Rebe
cca got to the baby first, snuggling him in her arms and bestowing countless kisses. Little Johnny was passed around to all the females in the family first, then Trent took a turn at holding him. He looked good with a child in his arms. Better him than me, Brock thought.
“Your turn, bro.” Trent walked over to Brock.
“No, thanks. I can see Johnny just fine standing right next to you.”
Laney walked over to him. “Now, Brock. Johnny needs to bond with all of his uncles.” She took Johnny out of Trent’s arms with all the instincts of a confident mother and set the baby in his arms. “There. You’re a natural.”
“She’s right,” Evan said, staring down at his son with pride. “You look good with a baby in your arms.”
Trent slapped him on the back and grinned like a circus clown. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Brock made the mistake of glancing at his mother. Her eyes softened on him and little Johnny, and her expression filled with hope. He cleared his throat, quietly so as not to startle the baby who seemed to be studying him with curious blue eyes. “I’m not going down that road.”
Evan roped his arms around Laney. “It sort of creeps up on you, Brock. Right, Laney?”
“Right,” she agreed.
Julia chimed right in. “I can’t wait until we have children.”
“You aren’t married yet.”
“We will be,” Trent said. “That’s one reason we all gathered here today. To celebrate Mom and Matthew’s engagement and to see if you wouldn’t mind hosting our wedding?”
Brock handed the baby back to Laney. He needed to focus on this request. “You want to get married in Maui?”
“We do.” Four voices chimed in at the same time.
Brock drew his brows together. “All four of you?”
“That’s right,” his mother said. “Julia and Trent and Matthew and I thought we’d marry in a double ceremony.”
“It’s fitting,” Matthew said with a bob of his head.
“That’s if you think you can keep the bathrooms from overflowing and the noise level down on the beach, bro.” Trent’s amusement met with a warning stare from Rebecca.
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