After several meetings with their corporate lawyers in DC as well as additional lawyers who specialized in the regulations covering congressional testimony, Regan found herself traveling to Washington in a position she would never have anticipated and very anxious to reflect well on Lyons Howe.
After the short five minutes of testimony before the committee, the first rush of adrenaline wore off. Regan was grateful for the transcripts and CSPAN, which her mother had taped. She was so nervous about the committee's questions and the clicking cameras that it all went by in a blur. She was pleasantly surprised when the DVD showed an elegant, relaxed and highly knowledgeable CEO who was unfazed by the harsh interrogation from members of the committee representing both parties.
Soon a second request appeared, and then a third, and her ability to stay at arm's length from Brandon dissipated. She had been happy to see a familiar face right before the first hearings. It calmed her nerves to chat with a friend.
“What are you doing here?” He had seemed genuinely surprised to see her.
“Testifying to Banking. I assume this is your doing?”
"Me? What would give you that Idea? I am not on the banking committee." The twinkle in his soft brown eyes gave him away. "Ok, you caught me. Yes, I might have suggested you when I heard they were looking to discuss recovery since the Midwest mortgage fallout, but after that, I was out of the loop."
“You did this!” Regan accused. “You forced me to drop everything? You arranged for me to come before Congress? Just because you wanted a dinner date?”
Although he was as good looking and charming as she remembered, she found herself indignant that Brandon had upended her life, forcing her to leave home and a pressing career for an unnecessary trip to Washington.
“It’s a compliment, Regan, if an inconvenient one, and you know it.”
Regan struggled for a snappy comeback, but Brandon was right. She was here as an expert witness. It was a highly favorable and advantageous opportunity. And Brandon had wanted her in DC where there were scores of women he could date instead.
“So, does that mean I get the dinner date?” he had pressed.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Senator,” she jibed, accepting his invitation with a saucy grin. "I am stuck In DC with no one for company but lawyers. After all, a girl has to eat, and I am a little in awe of someone with more power than me."
“You know that technically, I am a lawyer too,” he reminded her. “I hope that won’t be a problem for you when I invite you to dinner. And lunch tomorrow. And breakfast,” he wiggled his eyebrows wickedly. “Will you complain about my company too?”
"That remains to be seen, Counselor." He was beyond persistent. Soon she accepted his invitations for coffee, then lunch if he could get away, then for drinks, then dinner and then more. She found herself having such a good time that she delayed her return to Chicago and after two days became five, the pair were an item in all the papers.
That had been three months and several flights ago. The people watchers had quickly recognized that Regan spent time with Brandon each time she came to town and the media featured them regularly, their smiles splashed across the society pages, Regan frequently on his arm at Congressional parties and events.
“We make a good team,” the senator had told her more than once, the last time being just two hours ago over dinner at A Rake’s Progress. “Look at us. I am a rising star in government circles and – let’s be honest – one of DC’s most eligible bachelors.”
Regan had laughed at his conceit, but they both knew the statement was true. Charlotte had not been kidding. The man was the whole package. Before his election to the Senate, he had been a Congressman, and before that Brandon had a lucrative position as an attorney in the private sector. He left his prestigious firm to join the White House Counsel’s office before running for election. He had gathered the credentials and contacts he would need to go further.
The Hockney family had a history of public service dating back over a century. They were a founding family in Rhode Island and one of the leading families of New England. Brandon was the most successful of the clan. And, it turned out, he was athletic, a squash player, which explained the pale skin. He was also thoughtful, engaging, smart as a whip and sexy as hell.
“You, my lovely one, are gorgeous and brilliant. You are a Harvard-educated high powered CEO from the renowned Howe family.” She took a tiny bow over her plate of chicken and smiled at the recitation of her resume.
“I had no control over the family I was born into, but I will take full credit for the brilliance and beauty. I fought tooth and nail to wrestle that CEO position from the men in my family and I have doubled our revenues since I did,” she announced proudly, “So I do appreciate your recognizing my position."
“Well then,” Brandon continued, leaning in and taking her hand to create an intimate space in the crowded restaurant, “ We have our lineage, our Harvard educations, and our powerful positions in common.”
“Don’t forget our good looks,” Regan teased.
“I’m serious, Ree. I think you should acknowledge that this thing between us could be good – it could be great. Hell, It’s already great. We can enhance each other’s careers and make each other happy. I want you to move to DC and give it a chance. I will help you find a job here, or a board position, something with appropriate clout. I will open doors for you and you will solidify relationships for me.”
“Is this a merger?” she questioned with an undercurrent of suspicion she tried to laugh off. Regan couldn't precisely find fault with what he was saying; she just understood that it rubbed her the wrong way.
“It wasn’t meant to sound so cold, Sweetie. You know how I feel. I am crazy about you. We are good together, Ree, and we could be better. Being in two different states cramps our dating style.”
“And keeps me from solidifying key relationships for you,” Regan responded, more defensive than flattered.
"Regan, don't get that way. I am a pragmatist. You don't want to be with someone beneath you in professional stature or education. You certainly don't want someone who is penniless. Be honest. In families like ours, jobs like ours, marriage is about more than love. It needs to be.”
Regan didn’t make eye contact as she listened to Brandon describe the way he saw her. She knew this wasn’t her, but before she could correct him, Brandon continued.
“It is a merger, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. Move to Washington; move in with me or get a place of your own to start, then we can announce our engagement in a few months. That is a reasonable time to wait, don’t you agree? Meanwhile, our mothers can start wedding plans now. What do you say? I need you here, near me.”
“I have been here with increasing frequency,” she retorted. Regan was turned off by Brandon's little speech about money, education, and status. She didn't think of herself that way, and she didn't want to be with someone who did. Not to mention that he was talking marriage after knowing each other for three months.
She was getting defensive; she heard it in her words and her tone. It was all she could manage when her emotions were warring with her logic. Marriage to a man like Brandon was supposed to be everything she wanted, so why wasn't she feeling that excitement? Where was the racing heart, her mind thrilling to the idea of a life with Brandon?
Like always, whenever any man pushed her for more, Regan became uncertain and unsure.
Maybe it was time to cut and run. Looking Brandon right in the eye, Regan set out to sever some ties. “Originally, the hearing drew me here, but we both know that lately, I’ve flown here to spend more time with you. I have been neglecting my work and my family. I think I should be getting home, Brandon, and that we need some space.”
Indeed, her answer was not the reply the senator was hoping for; quite the opposite in fact. "Are you angry that I wasn't more romantic, Hon? Is that it? I promise, when the press cameras are rolling, and I am down on one knee, I will be the most romantic man yo
u have ever seen. You know I love you, Regan."
Regan tried to sort out her emotions. Was he the complete package or was he calculating, cold and unfeeling? Was she just jumpy because he was already talking marriage?
"I know you will," she finally said, squeezing his hand still holding hers. "I may have overreacted.” Regan bit her bottom lip and stalled a moment. She wanted to give Brandon the benefit of the doubt. Up until his little lecture, she had believed they had a bright future. “My merger remark was out of line. You are offering us a life together. I believe you when you say you love me.”
"And you adore me," he stated baldly. “So what are we waiting for?”
Do I love him? Can I trust myself to love, to believe in forever with this ambitious man? Just why was ambition a bad thing anyway? He was also kind and sexy.
Regan gave herself a mental lecture, running through Brandon's excellent qualities and telling herself to grow up and move past her fears. "Stop second guessing yourself, girl,” she commanded silently. “Time to let go of the past. Let go of the fear and move on!”
“…long enough, don’t you think?”
Brandon was looking at Regan expectantly. She had stopped listening to what he was saying when she had her little talk with herself. Fortunately, Brandon continued without her response.
"You've made sacrifices, and I've, I think, shown my appreciation," Brandon stated calmly. "Let me be completely clear. I'm saying I love you, Regan. I want to build a life with you.”
Regan was back in her head despite the stern lecture she had given herself. She heard Brandon's calm tone and started analyzing everything suspiciously. Was this the voice of a man professing true love? Was he sincere? Could she be sure?
Regan fidgeted with the napkin in her lap racking her brain for answers. Brandon was perfect marriage material, well at least what she had seen so far. She knew he didn’t want to wait much longer, which should have been fine with her. Better than fine. They both wanted a family; he had mentioned children many times. Although she hated to admit it and they had never discussed it, her biological clock was ticking.
Regan was approaching her mid-thirties. She too wanted marriage and children. But, if she was honest with herself, she wanted the CEO position she had fought to secure and worked hard to keep. Regan had earned her spot at the top of LHRE. She wanted Brandon to respect her achievements and to understand that her life was in Chicago. She needed him to empathize with all she would be giving up.
Regan’s emotions must have flashed across her face because Brandon, who had been leaning toward her and holding her hands, released them and sat back with a sigh.
“I get it. It’s a lot to think about.”
“It’s not that Brandon,” Regan rushed to reassure him. “You are asking me to give up a lot, and we have not been together very long. I need some time to think about it."
“Well, don’t think too long, Regan. We don’t have forever.”
Forever. Regan went still, “I don’t believe in forever anyway,” she announced cryptically.
"Well, as I said, then don't wait too long."
Alone at last to consider Brandon’s words, Regan tried to remember how she’d ended the dinner conversation. She recollected little except that she left the door open for more discussion while remaining non-committal. Regan was something of an expert at that after years of real estate negotiations and meaningless relationships. She must be better than she even realized, for they had ended the evening without argument and with that fantastic kiss.
Ah yes, that kiss. Brains, brawn, and the second-best kisser ever. Regan decided she needed to give Brandon more of a chance. She just needed a way to marry this man without giving up everything she had built at LHRE. Maybe she could expand the real estate division beyond the Midwest and into the mid-Atlantic. But would Brandon be willing to help her or would he need a little woman by his side?
No, Brandon knew who she was, appreciated her role as CEO. There were so many reasons why she should move toward Brandon. He was a wonderful man from a great family. Regan knew his parents and younger brothers and loved them all. Brandon had an education to rival her own—Harvard, then Harvard Law, in his case. He was handsome and funny, kind and exciting with a brilliant future. Here was a man who was well traveled, philanthropic and, with the wealth in the Hockney family, he was certainly not after her money or prestige. Her very dear friend Charlotte had vouched for Brandon and pushed for her to seal the deal. He even made her laugh.
Regan acknowledged that except for a bit too much ambition, Brandon was perfect. He just wasn’t Tyler.
Stop, stop, stop thinking like that, Regan told herself, punching her head lightly as if it would eradicate her first love from her brain. Tyler moved on decades ago, Regan acknowledged, while she was stuck in the past hanging onto a teenage dream, an illusion.
Regan knew in her heart that she and Tyler were history. They had seen each other often since that awful breakup, but never as more than friends.
She’d had several years to recover. Initially, she avoided Tyler at school breaks and then she went East for college and graduate school. Their paths crossed, as he had predicted on that horrible night. She saw him when he hung out with Wyatt, then when they attended the same business and philanthropic events. They were polite and gradually comfortable and friendly again. They never spoke of the time when they were teenagers. When they realized they were making the same gala rounds, they began serving as each other’s ‘plus-one’ for the events.
But underneath their friendly façade, Regan still loved him, and she suspected he loved her. There was no indication by deed or action or even a look. He rarely brought a date to an event, seldom dated women for more than a few weeks, never lost his heart. It made her wonder if, like her, he was unable to be with anyone else.
Then there was the fact that Tyler was so unfailingly polite. It was not like Tyler, not that he would ever be rude but, his very formality made it seem as if he was holding himself tightly in check. She was sure he was in love with her.
Only her head told her he wasn't. Regan's heart might insist he loved her, but for nearly twenty years, he had been friendly, kind, attentive and sweet, but never once romantic.
Twenty years is too long to wait. Regan had a wonderful man right in front of her proclaiming his love. Regan decided she would let go of the past and embrace Brandon. Decision made.
Regan's cell phone vibrated in her handbag. She reached in as she turned off the hall light and moved into the living room.
Oh no. Not now. Not Tyler. Not when she had just made her decision. Regan feared It would take all her energy to behave normally and decided not to risk it.
Pressing ignore, Regan allowed the call to go to voicemail. Kicking off her shoes as she moved through the rented brownstone, she dropped her coat on the arm of the couch, tossed her purse on the table and headed to the kitchen for a large glass of Chardonnay.
Regan knew she would have to return the call. She knew she would need the wine to do so. There was no way she could talk to him without liquid courage, not tonight. There were too many memories of him tonight; her emotions were too close to the surface. Moving back into the living room, Regan dug her phone from where it had landed between the sofa cushions and checked for a text message. There was nothing
OK, then, not a family emergency. Her father was aging. His health had been spotty the last several years, so any calls from home caused Regan anxiety. Although she was relieved that there were no texts about an emergency, she worried her bottom lip wondering why he was calling. He would leave a cryptic voice message that told her nothing. He had been staying away lately. It was just more comfortable for both of them since she had become involved with Brandon.
So why call now?
A family emergency would have been so much easier to handle. The random thought flitted across Regan's mind. Bite your tongue. A jumble of emotions bombarded her. Regan rubbed her temple to try to make them settle down, but she knew
it was futile. She always reacted to Tyler this way.
It’s as if he knew I was kissing another man, damn him, as if he knew I was letting go. If he doesn’t want me for himself, why the hell won't let me be with anyone else? Regan, my girl, he is allowing you be with Brandon, she realized, suddenly depressed. She was the one fighting this. Maybe she was the only one who couldn't let go.
Frustrated, nervous, edgy, Regan considered not returning the call. Curiosity and something she refused to acknowledge to herself won out. Regan gulped the expensive wine like it was water, then another, drinking the added fortification but knowing it wouldn't help. Shifting from Brandon to Tyler was proving more than just challenging tonight.
The phone rang startling her in the silence. Regan’s hands grew damp. Her heart sped up. She took a deep breath and completed the connection.
“Regan,” his husky voice spoke up immediately, and just like that the years fell away. She was connected with Tyler Winthrop, her brother’s best friend, the boy she loved and the best kisser in the whole wide world.
Chapter Six
Tyler
It had been a feeble excuse for calling. Tyler knew it when he dialed, when he left his cryptic “call me tonight, no matter how late” message.
She might think something was wrong, but at least she would call back.
Three weeks. Regan had been away from Chicago for almost three full weeks. He was going out of his mind picturing her with that damn man. The idea of her in bed with the oily senator turned his stomach.
Pacing for a good fifteen minutes, he dialed again. Were they together right now? Was the woman he loved getting laid by someone other than him? The pain hit him in his solar plexus like a punch from Muhammad Ali. Tyler had never been to bed with Regan. Someone else had taken her virginity, a thought that pained him repeatedly. In all their years together, despite his unwavering love for her and only her, he had never made it past second base with Regan Howe.
Besotted (Beguiling Bachelors Book 4) Page 5