“I’ll make it happen,” he growled. “All your dreams. Every last one. Cindy, stay, and see what your life can be if you make yourself mine...”
His lips closed over hers, gentle but firm, making her melt all over again in his arms. The kiss dragged her back, back to that dark and secret jungle, where pleasures unimaginable lurked in the shadows, watching her, waiting for her to accept, to step into the paradise he promised…and, in that manner, her mind was made up.
THE END
UNBEARABLE DESIRE
Billionaire Stepbrother Romance
Chapter one
Home equaled haven for Callie Bradford; especially when compared to the temporary digs that had served as her residence for the past four years.
Oh, not that dorm life at Dorchester Women’s College was all that bad; if one indeed could classify sharing close living quarters with one roommate who suffered from a chronic snoring problem and another who suffered from an equally chronic case of Multiple Personality Disorder (ah, but only one of the personae snored—that was one bonus, at least) as ‘not all that bad.’
Still it felt far better to lay nestled beneath a homemade patchwork quilt in a four poster bed; one sheltered by the same Wonder Woman canopy that had overseen her dreams throughout her childhood.
Opening her eyes wide as she settled herself in these whisper soft sheets, Callie stared up at the walls still adorned with posters depicting female lock legends such as Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Janis Joplin and Suzi Quatro; and at the pristine white shag carpeting now cluttered with all of the dirty laundry she’d brought with her from campus—along with a mahogany cased 5 string guitar that—or so she hoped—formed the corner stone of her future.
Currently pursuing a master’s degree in music education, Callie nonetheless fervently hoped that she never would have to spend one day at the head of the classroom. For although she did consider teaching to be a noble profession, she would far prefer to be singing and playing her guitar before a crowd of most appreciative folks at a night club. Or a performing arts hall. Or, what the heck, a stadium. Hey, a gal could dream.
As she now regarded the fine-tuned guitar that had carried her through dorm room rehearsals, the occasional slumber party, and random shows at the student union hall and at Benny’s Bar and Grill just off campus, she thought back to the first time she played the instrument; a 17th birthday present from her parents, Tom and Jama Bradford.
She’d performed an acoustic rendition of Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” for her senior recital; and as she saw the proud, beaming faces of her parents staring up at her on stage, she felt her heart swell with a certain pride - a feeling that meant more to her than that which she would experience if a million dollar record contract dropped magically out of the sky and into her jean clad lap.
“OK, well maybe we needn’t go quite that far,” she mused, still warming at the thought of the parents who had pretty much been there for every one of her major life milestones.
Except, of course, for those that had occurred within the past two years; the time that had elapsed since the untimely and tragic death of her beloved father; a man taken at age 56, after a sudden heart attack.
Her father had been there only in spirit for her 21st and 22nd birthdays and for the day that she had earned her bachelor’s degree in music theory and education. And now she looked forward to a summer where the sun would shine just a little less brightly, where typical summertime activities would be a little less fun, without her smiling, kind hearted daddy to share them with her.
Still she was determined to make sure that her mom Jama, a once vital woman who’d been unusually quiet and moody since the death of her husband, got her smile back this summer; and as she hopped up from her bed and ran a comb through her shoulder length shock of brilliant red hair, she prepared to present the special surprise that she’d had planned for months—the surprise that she hoped would brighten the life of the woman who—in the wake of her husband’s passing—had spent most of her time working the days away at a standard office job.
“I can’t wait until I hit it big as a musician, so I can retire her from that place,” she mused, adding as she slipped on a casual gem green jump suit that flattered her curvaceous form. “I can’t believe that such a kind, tolerant woman has to work in such close quarters with an obnoxious rich guy who himself should have been an opera singer—the way that he is always saying, ‘Me, me, me, me, me!’”
She laughed quietly to herself as she cleared the threshold that led her to a carpeted stairway; one that accessed the first floor of the clean but modest suburban home that her mother now occupied alone.
Soon she stood before a breakfast table adorned with a crisp white linen tablecloth; one topped with a pile of buttermilk pancakes drenched in hot, thick maple syrup.
The woman who prepared her favorite breakfast for her this morning, a petite raven haired beauty dressed today in a figure flattering denim dress, sat at the head of the table; greeting her daughter with a brilliant white toothed smile and a cherry “Good mornin’, Darlin’.”
Soon the two feasted happily on their sumptuous breakfast feast; chatting between chomps about their plans for the summer.
“I realize, Sweetheart, that the past couple of years have been so difficult for both of us,” Jama told her, reaching forward to wipe just a trace of sweet syrup from the corner of her daughter’s smiling mouth. “Something tells me, though, that this summer will be different.”
Callie nodded.
“Well I must tell you, Ma’am, your instincts are quite correct,” she assured her, adding as she dug deep in the pocket of her jump suit, “You and I have some big plans for this summer—you just don’t know it.”
With these she produced two oversized tickets; both imprinted with likenesses of cruise ships at sail on rolling azure waves.
“Next month, Mama,” she announced, tossing the tickets on a corner of her mother’s breakfast plate, “you and I are sailing off for a week in Acapulco!”
Jama froze.
“You booked us on a cruise next month?” she muttered, staring with wide eyes at the azure tickets freshly deposited on her pancake plate. “Seriously, dear?”
Callie frowned.
“Now Mom, don’t get too loud and excitable in your enthusiasm over these tickets—which, incidentally, cost me two weeks’ salary at the Grounds Level Coffee House,” she told her mother, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “With all of this noise you’re making right now, the neighbors are bound to call the cops.”
Jama shook her head.
“Oh honey, you don’t know how much it means to me that you bought these tickets,” she told her, adding through gritted teeth, “Unfortunately, though, I simply can’t go on the trip.”
Callie sighed.
“Look, Ma, I know that your boss will probably give you a tough time about taking off for a weeklong vacation,” she acknowledged, adding as she pointed an authoritative finger in her mother’s direction, “but you just remind that arrogant jerk that you have slaved away in his office for two years now, and that you deserve a break—if not an official declaration of sainthood for putting up with his crap!”
Jama looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
“Well actually, dear, Harry agrees that I deserve a break, and—as it turns out—he wants to take one with me,” she revealed, adding as she lowered her gaze to her plate, “He and I are going off on vacation together—to Las Vegas, as a matter of fact.”
Her gaze flew upward, and her mouth fell agape, as an enraged Callie brought her fist down hard on the table beneath them.
“Oh no he didn’t,” she growled out, shamelessly plagiarizing her roommate’s favorite expression—well, the one favored by her second alternate personality, anyway. “Look Mom, I know all too well that you need this job. But you should not have to sleep with your boss to keep it. So you tell him to take this little trip he’s planned and stick it up his….”
Jama had
heard enough.
“Well for your information, Callie, I planned the trip,” she revealed, adding as she looked her daughter straight in the eyes, “I always wanted the opportunity to plan my honeymoon. And now, it seems, I’ve gotten the chance.”
An uneasy silence followed these words; one Callie broke with the use of her other roommate’s favorite phrase.
“WTF?” she bellowed, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “Mother, are you telling me that you plan to marry the man you once referred to as the Son of Satan and that’s on His Good Days?” she paused here, adding in a softer, reflective tone, “I mean, admittedly, I do know of women who have similar nicknames for men that they’re currently married to—but Mom, you know better! And you can do better; you were once married to one of the greatest men—someone who was kind, charitable, and down to earth. How could you trade Dad’s memory for a man who isn’t even half his worth?”
Jama sighed.
“Callie, I love your father more than I can say—and I always will. He was my first love, and I can say for certain that no one will ever take his place in my heart,” she declared, adding as she grasped Callie’s hands across the table, “But he’s not here anymore, Sweetheart. And, as the months go by, I find that I feel the need for companionship.”
Callie rolled her eyes.
“Then get a freakin’ poodle,” she scoffed, adding as she slipped her hands away from her mother’s grasp, “At least a poodle would be cute, and wouldn’t keep you over time every night—as an added bonus, he wouldn’t spend excessive amounts of time boasting about his Swiss bank accounts, his foreign corporate takeovers, and his superior Bocce game score.”
Grinning in spite of herself, Jama shrugged and said, “Well as it happens, Hon, Harry just happens to be very cute—and, unlike the typical poodle, he has his facial hair under control. And for a widow who has been struggling to get by on a secretary’s pay, a man of his stature and success holds a great deal of appeal.” She paused here, adding in a softer tone, “And I must admit, Callie, that, as I’ve continued to work with and get to know Harry, I’ve come to know a whole other side of him. He’s actually a very nice man; one who also happens to be a devoted family man.”
Callie gaped.
“A devoted family man?” she echoed, adding as she buried her head in her hands, “Shoot me now. My dear, sweet ma is seeing a married man!”
Smiling and ever patient, Jama peeled Callie’s hands away from her face and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Harry is not married—not yet, anyway,” she informed her, adding with an uneasy shrug, “And as it turns out, you will get the opportunity to meet both him and his son at brunch today.”
Callie had heard enough.
“Since when do we have brunch?” she groaned outright. “And since when does Harry Sanders have a son?”
Chapter Two
Despite her great misgivings at her mother’s less than timely news, Callie joined her in the kitchen to prepare brunch for their guests; a meal that included sliced salmon, fresh baked biscuits topped with rich grape jam, warm egg casserole, as well as fruit and cheese plates and hot bagels topped with cream cheese.
As her mother brewed tea and coffee for the brunch, Callie retreated upstairs to shower and change into a gold cotton sundress that flattered and emphasized her curvy frame; primping her hair and applying a rarely worn shade of ruby red lipstick.
“Not that I remotely care what Rich Guy Sr. and Rich Guy Jr. think of me,” she sniffed, adding as she inspected the results of her impromptu makeover in her bedroom mirror. “But, blast it, brunch is brunch. And, whatever that is, one probably should dress up for it.”
Her meditative makeover was disrupted by the sound of a door opening on the first floor; one that indicated—or so she assumed--the entry of their guests for the blasted brunch.
“Don’t they even knock?” she mused, taking swift leave of her room as she headed down the stairway in the direction of the first floor. “Ah, well. I guess that, when you’re that darned rich, you can just feel free to walk into other people’s homes without knocking first. Must be nice.”
She stopped stock still on the staircase as she beheld the most beautiful man she ever had seen.
The tall, muscular man who now filled her doorway boasted a thick, full mane of jet ebony hair that framed a flawless face; one that came complete with chiseled cheekbones, full, moist lips and piercing azure eyes.
Dressed that day in an ivory suit that seemed to be culled from exquisite silk, the stunning stranger bore a striking likeness to a classic movie screen hero, or perhaps a fine crafted sculpture in a European art museum.
And then he had to go and open his mouth. Blast him.
“I say, Father,” the statue spoke, furrowing his flawless brow as he checked the gold watch that adorned his sturdy wrist, “How long must we stay at this little shindig? While we sit and have empty conversation with Cinderella and Cinderella Jr., I could be at the club playing tennis with Marnie Lawrence. Have I mentioned that she’s soon to be a contestant in The Miss Forever Beautiful Pageant?”
The man jumped as Callie met these words with a loud, sharp laugh; clearing the last few steps of the staircase in skipping strides as she fixed her guest with a wolfish grin.
“Well if your friend - Marnie, is it?- is indeed a contestant in The Miss Forever Beautiful Pageant, then chances are she won’t be eating anytime between now and said competition,” she informed him, adding with a shrug, “So you might as well stay a while, and eat while the eatin’s good.”
The man stared at her a long, silent moment, then laughed in spite of himself as he offered her his hand.
“Touché, Miss,” he told her, adding as he lifted his sculpted chin to markedly proud effect, “Do allow me to introduce myself. I am Hamilton Sanders.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she greeted him. “I’m Callie Bradford, Jama’s daughter.”
Taking his hand in hers, Callie pumped it in a hearty, robust grasp before turning her attention to the other gentlemen who currently occupied her mother’s crisp tiled entryway.
Likening his son like a mirror image, the man that she assumed was Harry Sanders was also a tall, blue-eyed brunette with an impressive muscular physique. Although greying at the temples and boasting of worry lines just beneath his eyes, even she had to admit that Mr. Sanders still cut an impressive figure at the age of 58; and the dazzling white toothed smile that he gave her was nothing short of charming.
“Finally, I get to meet the apple of my Jama’s eye,” he greeted her, adding as he raised her hand to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss, “I am so pleased to meet you, Callie.”
Softening a bit at his show of courtesy, Callie nodded as she told him, “I’m very pleased to meet you, as well. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Most of it so overwhelmingly negative I can’t rightly believe my mother is marrying you,” she said silently, adding aloud as she turned for the dining room, “Now we’d better run along and devour the brunch that Cinderella Sr. and I have so lovingly prepared; before the egg casserole turns back into a pumpkin.”
Soon the party of four situated themselves around the Bradford dinner table, talking and laughing as they enjoyed a fresh prepared meal in a clean, sun drenched eating area.
“Jama, I must say that you’ve outdone yourself this time,” Harry praised his beaming fiancée, adding as he made a graceful gesture in the direction of his plate. “This is the best buffet I’ve ever enjoyed.”
Hamilton snorted.
“Oh come now, Dad,” he chided his father, adding with a smug grin, “I mean, please don’t misunderstand, this food is certainly more than passable. Just remember, though, that we recently had brunch at the Waldorf Astoria, right after our boating trip on the lake last weekend. And just last week we had THE brunch, at Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant.”
Callie had heard enough.
“Did Wolfgang happen to stop by your table and clock you in the sc
ulpted chin for being impolite?” she snapped.
Unphased by her jibe, Hamilton took a long sip of tea before answering, “Well no. And since my father and I own significant stock in several of his restaurants, he would be advised not to do so.”
Harry cleared his throat.
“Callie, my son and I can’t thank you and your mother enough for your hospitality in serving us this delicious meal,” he told her, adding as he took Jama’s hand in his, “I know that this situation can’t be easy for you. You come from school to suddenly find that your mother is engaged to a man you’ve never met…”
He broke off suddenly as his son met his words with a sharp, derisive snort.
“How many of those can the dude manage in a single day?” Callie mused in silence. “What’s his record, I wonder?”
Then she listened in a state of sheer disbelief as her guest said, “Now let’s not play games here, Dad, why would Miss Callie here not be absolutely thrilled that her mom is marrying the richest man in Plainview, Florida? Let us not mince words here; she and Cinderella Sr. have hit pay dirt here. And I’m sure they know as much.” He paused here, drawing himself up in his plain wicker chair as he added, “Heck, I myself am pretty blasted grateful that—because of you—I’ve just been named the Richest Bachelor in the City by The Plainview Times.”
Callie rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Well bully for you,” she praised him, adding as she pointed an authoritative fork in his direction, “Perhaps next year you also can try for Most Improved Attitude (as in Barely Tolerable and Borderline Civil at Best).” She paused here, adding with a shrug, “Hey, it’s a low goal—but one you should shoot for.”
Hamilton shrugged.
“The only title I’m concerned about winning next year is that of the Richest Bachelor in Florida,” he informed her, adding with a snide grin, “And, seeing as how I am destined to inherit my rather substantial part of the family trust on my 25th birthday—which will take place in just over four months—I wager that title will not be difficult to earn.” He paused here, adding as he gestured in the direction of Callie’s breakfast plate, “Perhaps you, Miss, could compete for the title of Most Consecutive Bagels Consumed During the Course of a Single Brunch—Each One of Them Coming Complete with Enough Cream Cheese Topping to Feed a Small Village?”
ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) Page 54