by Casey Diam
“Apology for what?” he asked.
“Unbelievable. Look, I don’t know who taught you to talk to women like they’re worthless, but I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like that. That thing you said about driving me crazy was disrespectful, and to make matters worse, you were there with your girlfriend, or wife, if I remember correct—”
“Okay, please stop. First, I’m not married, and she wasn’t my girlfriend. Second, I’m usually worse, and I was polite with you,” Brandon clarified. “I’m a blunt person. If I see something I like, I speak my mind. I don’t see why you would be offended by it; most women are thrilled.”
“You’re wrong. Most women do not like that. And as for me, I don’t need a man disrespecting me to feel good about myself. And in case my point hasn’t registered yet, walking up to a woman and starting a conversation about sex isn’t exactly polite,” she sneered.
“I’ve never once mentioned that word to you. If when I say ‘driving a woman crazy’, it makes you think of sex, then, hey—maybe I’m not the one with the problem. But I must say, with the way you enunciate the word sex, I’m surprised you don’t walk around with a stick up your ass. Oh wait, you do.”
Jordan’s mouth fell open. “You’re an asshole.”
Tears prickled behind her eyelids because he was right. But after Todd, she needed to be this way. He caught her arm before she ran off.
“Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve been giving me shit since I met you, and I never meant to offend you. You’re beautiful, and yes, I can be an asshole. But if it makes you feel better, I won’t talk about sex to you again. How’s that?”
“Fine, but I won’t see you again, so there’s no need to make any promises. Good luck with your girlfriend or whatever.”
“So, it’s okay for you to throw bricks at me, but I can’t point out the obvious?” Brandon shook his head. “You may be used to being in charge, and having ass-kissers around, but I’m not easily managed. And while we’re at it, how about this? Good luck with your boyfriend. With how tightly you’re wound, you need it.”
Jordan rolled her eyes and chewed on the inside of her lip. “Trying to settle our differences was obviously a mistake, so I’m going to be the grownup and walk away before it gets worse.” She stepped back. “Hopefully, fate will work in my favor, and I’ll never see you again.”
So, why did the thought of not seeing him again make her sad?
Falling into step with her, he said, “I’m sorry for everything I’ve said to upset you, Jordan. This is weird for me. I’m not used to . . . behaving. I like you, and I think we started out on the wrong foot. We should get to know each other before passing judgment. After we’ve talked in a more civilized manner, you can decide if I’m still an asshole, but only after you’ve at least tried to get to know me.”
Brandon took her hand in his and stopped her. The same tingling sensation from a few days before traveled through her arm. “Please join me for dinner tomorrow night?”
She snatched her hand away and scanned his face, looking for the joke, but he seemed dead serious. “What would your girlfriend think about that?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t care if you have a boyfriend. It’s just dinner. And for the record, if you still don’t believe me, ask any one of my friends. I haven’t had a girlfriend in ten years, and if I did, she would probably like girls, too . . . maybe even like you, too.”
Jordan didn’t find this funny, and as she drew back and raised her eyebrows, he apologized.
“Sorry. I probably don’t have the greatest sense of humor to you. But some people think I’m funny. I’m a good person, Jordan, I promise. I just want your opinion of me to change.”
“And what if it doesn’t? Anyway, why do you even care what I think about you?”
“It will change. I’ll make sure of it, and honestly, I don’t know why I care. I guess there’s just something about you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jordan said, a hint of resignation in her voice. “I suppose there’s something about you, too.”
“Oh yeah, and what could that be?” he asked, his voice deeper than before.
Her eyes drifted to lips that awakened a need in her, but she chose her next words carefully. “The ability to both annoy and piss me off since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Ouch. Well, we’re going to have to change that, aren’t we? But since I’m already taking you to the movies and now to dinner, I must not have pissed you off too much.” Brandon’s smile was hopeful.
Not sure what to do with his arrogance, she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “As I said, I’m funny to some, or most. I’m funny to most. Not you, obviously.”
Jordan inhaled and rolled her eyes, biting her lip before it curved into a smile. “Crazy how much you sound like Richie. He would definitely like you.”
Richie, her personal assistant and friend for years, spoke freely, much like Brandon did. She had never understood why she used to be Richie’s wingwoman; all he needed was his face, body, and the seductive gaze he walked around with so casually—sort of like the rainforest one Brandon carried around.
She swallowed. What was she doing?
“Who’s Richie?” Brandon asked.
The next day, Brandon expected Jordan to cancel, having changed her mind overnight, but she didn’t.
She was sitting in the passenger seat of his Mercedes as they both endured the long and awkward drive from her workplace. The awkwardness was his doing. Again. So as the highway bustled with evening traffic, and the sun cast its last hues over the horizon, his sweaty palms turned the steering wheel toward the exit ramp.
He’d talked Jordan into taking a quick detour with him before dinner, so she had a right to be frustrated. She’d agreed, though she didn’t know where he was taking her—and he wasn’t sure he should take her there. But it felt like the right thing to do since he’d double booked to make this work at all, and the last thing he wanted to do was cancel on Jordan. She’d given him a shot, though she didn’t know that yet, and he was going to take full advantage. Plus, he was willing to try anything to help his mother feel better, no matter how desperate or crazy it seemed.
His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. This was fucking desperate and crazy. But it was too late. He brought the car to a stop in the hospital’s parking lot.
“We’re here,” he announced.
“Please stop trying to be funny. You’ve already proven you’re not.” Jordan sighed. “Seriously, where are we going?”
Even her frown was gorgeous, though he had nothing to compare it to—it was all she ever gave him. Given her lack of transparency, he was surprised to find sadness lurking in her honey eyes. It did something to him, something he didn’t understand. He just knew he didn’t want to be one of the reasons she was sad.
Cracking his door open, he hopped out and hurried around the front of the white Mercedes to Jordan’s door.
“I’m not getting out until you tell me what we’re doing here,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. He took a bouquet of flowers from the backseat and handed it to her.
“Oh,” Jordan said, and her face gave way to a pleased yet shocked expression.
“Those aren’t for you. Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “They’re for the person we’re going to see.”
Jordan shook her head but smiled. “I really don’t like you, and this is not a date. I just want to make that extremely clear.”
“You don’t have to like me right now. Think of this as a favor. I know I should be the one doing you favors, but I promise I’ll make up for it. And I got it, sweetheart. This isn’t a date. You’ve reminded me twice since I picked you up. Actually, just consider this as your debt paid in full for me rescuing you from that woman.”
“You didn’t rescue me . . .” Jordan huffed.
The Mercedes sat low to the ground, and because Jordan refused to take his hand, he could only watc
h her struggle and glare at him as she attempted to get out.
“Seriously.” Jordan sighed as her tight-fitting dress and high heels worked against her.
He bit his lip to fight his amusement.
“Can you turn your head, please? I’m afraid I might expose myself getting out of this ridiculous car.”
“This car is amazing, and if you’d take my hand it would make it much easier, but suit yourself.”
“In case you were wondering, you’re still a jerk,” Jordan said when she finally stood and straightened her clothes.
Her dress had a low, square neckline, and he could see the plump tops of her breasts peeking out at him. Her straightened golden hair, which she swept to one side of her face, was so long it fell a few inches past her breasts.
As they walked toward the building, Jordan ran her hands up and down her arms.
“You look like you could use a bit more clothing.” Not that he didn’t appreciate every curve her dark purple, sleeveless dress hugged on her body. She ignored his comment, so he added, “But it’s the perfect dress for the perfect occasion. Careful, I might think you’re trying to impress me.”
She pressed her painted lips together, and he could tell she was fighting the urge to respond. Shit, maybe she really didn’t like him.
“Would you like my jacket?” Brandon asked, adding a hint of softness to his deep voice. “I know you didn’t plan for this.”
With pride, she shook her head, staring at the elevator like she was willing it to open. “I’m fine.”
She paused for an old man with a walker as the elevator doors opened, but Brandon allowed her to walk ahead of him, with much pleasure. What a view! Her ass was perfection. Now he had even more motivation to prove himself, though he still had no fucking idea how. Why was it so hard with her? He could charm the panties off any other woman in half an hour max—anything over that and she wasn’t worth the effort.
So why was Jordan here and about to meet his mother?
Nurses and visitors turned to look as they walked the corridor, probably because Jordan wouldn’t take his jacket—not that it would’ve hidden how drop-dead gorgeous she was. It was his fault. He’d put her in this situation, and he could tell she was uncomfortable with the attention as she hugged herself.
He shrugged out of his jacket. “That’s it, I insist you take my jacket, because now I can’t tell if that seventy-year-old man was stripping me or you with his eyes, and I kind of want it to be me.”
When she didn’t respond, Brandon stopped her and searched her eyes. Suddenly she didn’t seem like the confident woman she’d been for the little time he’d known her. “Everything okay?”
Her eyes were distant as she spoke. “Don’t pretend what I think and feel matters to you. I’m completely outside of my comfort zone. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove tonight, but whatever you’re doing isn’t necessary. Just because you’re attractive doesn’t give you the right to use another person’s misfortune to get someone to like you. And it won’t work, because this is the lowest thing you could ever do to impress a girl, Brandon, and I can’t do this. Can you take me home, please?”
A nurse pushed an older woman in a wheelchair past them.
“Wow, okay. I deserve that,” he said. What he was doing was, in fact, insane. “But this isn’t to impress you.”
She shook her head and lowered her eyes. “I’ve been down this road before, and I don’t like pretenders. If you’re an asshole, just be an asshole. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Fair enough. But now it’s my time to remind you, this isn’t a date.” He stepped behind her and covered her shoulders with his jacket. A gentle scent floated up from her—peach, jasmine, or rose petals? Fuck, of course she would smell delicious, too. “To be honest, I need your help. If you want me to, I will leave you alone forever after you do this one thing for me. This seemed like a better idea when I first thought of it, but my mom is sick. She is constantly bothering me about dating and grandchildren. Frankly, it’s both sad and frustrating. I just need her to see I’m not hopeless. That’s all. I don’t want to be part of the reason she’s stressed.”
Jordan’s empathic look told him she would agree to his craziness, and he only hoped she didn’t start to pity him. That wasn’t why he’d brought her along.
“What would make her think you’re hopeless?”
His thoughts drifted to Hailey without a glitch, but that was his past, and no one who hadn’t been there would ever know what happened. However, Jordan was finally letting her guard down, and he couldn’t be an ass to her again. So he settled for the closest truth.
“Because I don’t see the fairy-tale ending everyone else does.”
Jordan smiled, and his heart contracted, then paused before resuming its normal rhythm. What in the actual fuck? As his body grew hot, he tried to dispel any other thoughts besides how he wanted her in his bed.
“Well, this is shocking. I believe we have one thing in common. I’m not much for fairy tales either.” Her voice was much less defensive than he’d come to expect. It sounded smooth and sultry. Even his cock twitched in approval.
They entered a small, private room filled with fresh flowers, balloons, and his family. The head of the hospital bed had been raised upright, with his mother’s tiny frame in the middle, and his father and aunt stood on either side. The tubes attached to her during treatments had been removed, but that was most likely temporarily. Everyone’s head turned to Brandon as he entered, and then to the stranger behind him.
He kissed his mother’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
Kim Kuvat’s youthful appearance was vanishing quickly these days, and each time he noticed, it lodged a new bullet into Brandon’s chest.
He was supposed to be armored, but not with her. Family was an exception.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he raised a hand, calling Jordan over when he saw her still standing by the door. “Mom, this is my friend Jordan. Her friends call her Jo, but I like Jordan.” He looked up and beamed at her. She returned his smile, though he couldn’t tell if she was just being polite. “Jordan, this is my mom, Kim Kuvat.”
Jordan took his mother’s delicate hand in hers. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kuvat. Oh, and here you go. Your charming son made me think these were for me. Happy birthday.”
Mrs. Kuvat laughed before she started to cough. “Brandon?”
“Mom, it wasn’t really like that,” Brandon explained, smiling and fixing his mother’s hair. “Jordan, don’t be funny. It’ll make her cough.”
“I’m sorry.” Jordan retreated, embarrassment staining her face.
“Stop that,” his mother said, admonishing him. She looked at Jordan. “Here, sweetheart, you can have the flowers. You deserve them if you have to put up with him. He is his father’s son.” A nostalgic look came over her. “I still remember how his father tripped me and smashed my knee on our very first date. But as crazy as it was, I think that’s when I first started to fall for him—literally.” She smiled affectionately at his father.
The awkwardness disappeared, and the room filled with laughter. Even in her dull state, his mother could still light up a room.
“How are you feeling today?” Brandon asked. “Oh, I have something else for you.” He retrieved a small jewelry box from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Brandon, I told you to stop buying me stuff,” she chastised. But he saw her delight as she opened the box, revealing the blue topaz bracelet he’d picked out for her.
Over the next half hour, a few more of his relatives and friends flowed into the small room, and he was sure the nurses would kick them out. He kept close to Jordan, although she seemed at ease with his family.
Natasha, his mother’s sister, caught sight of a nurse before the rest of them, and announced, “Hey, the nurse is here. Shhh . . .”
“No, she isn’t. Well, she is, but that’s Jamie, my mom,” Jordan explained, approaching the woman. “She works here.”
Her mom works here? Brandon knew he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming earlier, but why hadn’t she told him?
Jamie was shorter and heavier than Jordan, with strawberry blonde hair caught up in a bun. Brandon’s eyes moved from Jamie to Jordan, and when their eyes connected, he couldn’t look away. Intensity sparked between them, and the surrounding chatter and laughter vanished. All he could see was her until she released him from her spell.
“I heard it’s your birthday, young lady. You don’t look a day over forty,” Jamie said, caressing his mother’s feeble hand.
She laughed. “Gosh, oh how I wish.”
“Now that I know you’re here, I’ll come back and check up on you when I’m working. Anyone who’s a friend of my daughter is a friend of mine.” Jamie smiled then wrinkled her nose. “Except the men she dates.”
“Mom!” Jordan warned.
Natasha joined in. “We’ve all had one of those. No need to be embarrassed, honey. My mom still badgers me at thirty-nine.”
“Oh boy, this isn’t going to turn into some girl talk, is it?” his father asked, and Brandon was relieved.
Jordan’s dating history wasn’t his concern, though a part of him wanted to know more after she’d agreed with him about not seeing a fairy-tale ending, and then her mother’s comment . . . What kind of guys did she date?
“Not at all. Maybe next time we can sit and chat,” Jamie said. “I was just stopping by to see what my daughter has been up to.” She walked toward Brandon, and he could barely keep his feet steady. “So, you’re the gentleman who brought my daughter here. I was concerned, but you do look put together, and it’s something she really—”
“Mooomm,” Jordan whined and rushed over. “You should get back to work.”
“Okay, but call me,” Jamie stated rather than asked.
“I will.” Jordan’s cheeks flushed, and Brandon smiled. Even more fucking adorable.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked when she returned to his side, the effects of her embarrassment still present.
She shrugged. “Whatever you want. I’ll stay longer if you want me to.”