“No, of course not. You’d rather hold your mistress’s hand instead,” I all but shouted. I was crossing a line, and I knew it, but was unable to stop myself.
My father jumped up, and slammed his hand on my desk. “You watch your mouth, boy,” he murmured low, between clenched teeth.
I had definitely struck a nerve, and part of me wanted to retract my words, because suspecting something and knowing it as fact were two entirely different things. And some things I just didn’t want to know about the man. But the other part of me, the one that was itching for a fight, simply no longer cared.
I stood as well. “What? Did I touch a little close to home? Or is it the hotel? How about your office? I’m sure she’s been bent over that desk of yours a time or two.”
I barely had time to brace myself before my father lunged at me, pushing me up against the window of my office. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“I’m warning you,” he threatened.
“But not denying it,” I immediately countered.
We stared at each other against the window, so many unspoken things swirling the air around us. I had opened Pandora’s Box, yet I didn’t really know what to do with the information that had come spilling out. My father was having an affair. With Brooke? Most likely, but I suddenly had no desire to ask. The man was having an affair, and it probably wasn’t his first. Who really cared who it was with?
The fight left me and all I wanted was to get out of here and find the one person I knew could calm me down.
How I knew this about her, I had no idea. I just did.
My father finally released me, and stepped back. Our eyes remained locked as he smoothed his suit jacket down and straightened his tie.
“I’ll be in touch once I land.” He turned and walked out of my office without another word.
I stood behind my desk, staring at the door long after he had gone. Making up my mind, and not giving myself time to think my way out of it, I followed suit, and headed to the eighth floor.
I abruptly walked into her office, and clearly I wasn’t thinking straight because I had barged in without giving any thought to who she may be with, or how it would look.
Dear God, I was as bad as my father.
She looked up, slightly alarmed at my intrusion. A girl I recognized but whose name I could not place at the moment began to rise from her chair. My mind raced for an excuse that would explain why I was here.
“Miss. Andrews, sorry to barge in. I need to talk with you about J & J; do you have some time?”
Miss Whatshername smartly took notice of the look on my face and made a hasty exit. I closed the door behind her and stood, staring at Reagan. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure what to say.
But I had been right, though. Thirty seconds in and I no longer felt the need to strangle someone upon sight. I continued to stare at her, taking in her full lips that I ached to claim, right here, right now… up to the thick, dark lashes that framed her beautiful amber colored eyes. Eyes that were now looking at me warily, and with perhaps a bit of concern.
“What’s wrong?”
I moved away from the door, breathing easier. I folded myself into one of her office chairs and cleared my throat. There were so many ways to answer that question, I didn’t know where to begin.
I chose the one that had prompted me to come here in the first place.
“I just needed to see you.” I could tell she had no idea how to respond to my direct honesty. Hell, I didn’t even know how to respond. I couldn’t take it back, though, so I hurried to explain, just in case I had totally freaked her out.
“I . . . my father is going to Tokyo in two days.” I’m sure she knew this already, since his traveling companion also happened to be her roommate. I didn’t know where I was going with this, hadn’t planned what I was going to say and was just really saying whatever came to mind. Hell, I knew what this woman looked and sounded like when she came. I shouldn’t be this awkward and uncertain. She still looked a little confused, so I continued on.
“He’s going to be gone for about two weeks or so, which shouldn’t be an issue. Except it is. Because next week marks the two year anniversary of my brother’s death, and he won’t be here. My mom is . . . it’s just a really hard time for her. For the both of us. He says it’s for business, but Hu Wuang could wait. No, he’s just being a coward, thinking if he’s not here, he doesn’t have to deal with it. Her.” I let out a heavy sigh and rubbed my hand over my face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m pissed and not thinking straight. I shouldn’t have barged in on you like this.” And I’m nervous as hell around you for reasons I don’t even want to explore.
She didn’t respond as I watched her rise, and walk around to where I was sitting. She sat in the chair beside me, and reached out awkwardly, as if to take my hand, before changing her mind and dropping her hand on the arm of the chair. She looked at me, still not saying a word. Then, without warning, she suddenly, quickly, reached over and clasped my hand in hers. My heart leaped at the contact.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
I did. I don’t know why I suddenly felt like spilling my guts to this woman, but I honestly did. I had no idea where to begin, though. There was so much I had kept bottled in for so long, and the women I usually became involved with were too self-absorbed to even think about asking how I felt about anything other than sex and how I liked it. I wanted to share myself with Reagan, but was afraid if I really told her the truth about my mom, the relationship with me and my dad, my hurt, guilt and anger, she’d run.
I decided to keep it light.
“My father and I don’t exactly get along.” An extreme understatement if there ever was one, but that was a story for another day. “We just had a little chat in my office and I said some things I shouldn’t have. That’s all.”
I was acutely aware she was still holding my hand. I didn’t say more, but she seemed to understand my need to just be here, with her. We sat in silence for a moment, hands clasped and resting against her chair. The silence, the just sitting here doing nothing should have made me uncomfortable. Bored, even. But it didn’t. I was no longer surprised. Everything about this woman was a contradiction of emotions and I had given up trying to understand them.
She squeezed my hand. “Are you okay?”
I gently tugged on her hand, willing her to come to me. She stood and I patted my lap in invitation. She hesitated, but then slid down to seat herself on my lap, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I am now,” I answered softly.
She gazed at me with unwavering eyes, and then slightly leaned forward. Our lips touched lightly, just the barest contact, really. I felt my heart rate increase as I forced myself to sit motionless, letting her control the pace. She was making the first move and I was eager to see how far she would let it go. She continued to brush the lightest of kisses across my closed mouth, her warm breath heating my skin. Then, her tongue flickered out and slid across the seam of my lips and I almost came up off the chair. I gave up letting her have the upper hand, and opened my mouth to devour hers. I was literally coming unglued, the feel of her mouth beneath mine driving me to heights of lust even I had never reached. It was as if every single contact with this woman was magnified, leaving my nerve endings raw and exposed. I had to end this now before I lost all sense and did something crazy.
Like throw her up on the desk and bury myself in her.
I hadn’t even locked the door. Anyone could walk in, and I was quickly approaching the point where I no longer cared. I had to stop it. Now.
Apparently she had the same idea. “Nathan,” she whispered. “We have to stop.”
I slowly pulled my mouth from her neck where I had been gently nipping along her collarbone, up to her ear. I became aware that the evidence of my painful arousal was probably pressing against her leg, angled as she was across my lap. I pressed my forehead to hers, and closed my eyes. “We should, yes. But believe me when I say I would rather no
t.”
She gave a nervous chuckle. “Me, either,” she admitted.
I could have died, right then and there, and died happy.
I reluctantly pulled away, and she stood up, smoothing down her skirt. I stood as well. “I know you have your doubts, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I think you should know that I like you. And I think you like me, too.” I paused, waiting to see how she would respond to this new round of stark honesty.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then, “I do. But--,” she held up a hand when I opened my mouth to say more. “—can we just leave it at that for now? I need to . . . I don’t normally--” she broke off, as if she couldn’t quite put into words what she wanted to say.
I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Fine. For now. But I make no promises when it comes to not kissing you. That I just cannot do.” This said as I again found my mouth nibbling her earlobe.
“Deal,” she replied. She turned her face to mine and I ravished her mouth thoroughly once more before heading to the door.
“Thank you, Miss Andrews. It’s always a pleasure,” I joked, before leaving and heading back to my own office, the smell of her following me the entire way there.
Reagan
I sat back down at my desk after Nathan left, feeling flushed and unsatisfied. My entire body was still singing in response to the make out session we’d just indulged in, and I’m pretty sure I needed to change my underwear. I raised a hand to my mouth, which was still tingling and probably swollen. Every nerve was on high alert. It was good things had ended when they did, because honestly? Much more and I’m sure I would have exploded again, right there on his lap. I didn’t know if it was testament to Nathan’s skill, or the fact that my body now knew what it felt like to have his fingers inside it, but whatever it was, I wanted more of it.
I was nervous about things progressing with Nathan. He made me feel things I couldn’t explain; things I was honest enough to admit I wanted. It worried me that I’d been out with him once already and had yet to clearly define my limitations, the things I needed to establish to make this relationship, or whatever it was, work for me. But for the first time that I could remember, I actually wanted a guy to hang around. The thought of having no other contact with Nathan outside of the obligatory hook up upset me. And the fact that it upset me, worried me. Because minimal contact relationships were my thing; it’s what I did. What if I had an episode when he was with me? Him being with me, us having a real, honest to God relationship, meant I would have to explain things I had never bothered to, or needed to, before. Was I ready for that?
I shook my head at myself. I liked him, he liked me, and we were going to leave it at that for the time being. I needed to stick with that and stop letting my head mess with what I wanted. At least for now. Should the need to explain my past, and the issues it presented, ever arise . . . well, I would cross that bridge if I came to it.
My thoughts were interrupted by an incoming email from Isaac. He was due back sometime next week, and his emailed instructions to me regarding the Johnson & Johnson account were coming with increased frequency. I had no choice but to turn my attention to work, and buried myself in it, working straight through lunch. I was preparing for a two o’clock meeting at Grand Central, when my IM pinged.
Nathan.
NPreston: Dinner?
I hesitated, a quick denial coming to mind. But . . . what the hell? Besides, I would be denying out of habit, not from any real desire to say no.
RAndrews: Perhaps. What did you have mind?
NPreston: My place. 7-ish?
His place. Certainly a big leap from the wine bar. My fingers danced above the keys. Decisions, decisions. Was I really ready for this? I had already experienced how quickly things could get out of control with him here at the office. Was I ready to be alone with him at his house, with his bedroom within walking distance?
So much for my earlier mental pep talk. The fact that I was interpreting his request for dinner as an invitation to show up naked just further proved how fast I was losing it. I had to get a grip!
NPreston: Hello?
RAndrews: Sorry! Yes, dinner sounds good. Can I bring anything?
NPreston: Just yourself :) I can pick you up?
Reagan: I’ll take a cab. Send me the address. See you tonight! :)
Angela appeared in my doorway, and I quickly signed out and grabbed my binder for the meeting. I couldn’t concentrate as Bailey rambled on about Isaac’s impending return, and other miscellaneous information.
I was having dinner tonight with Nathan. At his house.
Sorry, Bailey. Some things just take precedence.
I became more agitated as the meeting wore on, each minute bringing me closer to seven o’clock. Should I go home and change? I didn’t want to overdress, but didn’t want to show up in the rumpled clothes I’d worn all day, either. I definitely needed a makeup refresher . . . perhaps do something different with this hair.
Maybe I should stop and get a bottle of wine.
Or maybe I was making too much of this and I just needed to head over there straight from work. I didn’t want to appear like I was trying too hard. My inexperience with these types of things left me with too many “maybes”, and I had no one to help me fill in the blanks.
I was anxiously checking the time when Bailey called my name. I looked up, clearly at a loss on what had been said.
Shit.
“Yes?” I hoped to God Bailey took this as a question, as in “Yes, what did you need?” rather than an agreement, as in “Yes, I would love to take that on” type thing. This is what I get for not listening.
“You will be meeting with Robert Johnson over drinks this Friday evening to finalize some plans. Mr. Preston will be unable to attend, but I’m told it will be informal. I will get details to you before then.”
Nothing like telling me last minute!
I hadn’t thought anything could distract me from my evening plans, but Bailey’s words had done it. The Johnson & Johnson account was huge, meaning millions to Elite, and wining and dining said clients was being left up to me? What if I completely screwed up? What if I had one of my panic attacks during dinner and Robert Johnson called the whole thing off because, really, who wants to deal with a weirdo, right?
Who leaves client entertainment up to the newbie? I mean, who does that? It was like sending in a first year resident to do solo brain surgery. Or asking the new office temp to build a new payroll system because, hey, she’s good at Excel so naturally she must be tech-savvy.
Seriously?
The meeting adjourned and I walked back to my office, still anxious, but for entirely different reasons. Bailey quickly followed me.
“Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. I just got the info from Isaac as I was heading to Grand Central.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Want me to go with you?”
Yes, please. “I think I should be okay. How hard can it be, right?” I joked.
Bailey winked. “That’s my girl! You’ll be getting some talking points from Isaac in your email, if you don’t have them already. Just look them over, show Robert the plans, and keep him happy. You’ll be fine.”
His confidence in me was overly generous, and I felt unwarranted. I’d only been working here just under two weeks; how did he know me well enough to know I’d be fine?
After promising to let him know if I changed my mind about him accompanying me, he left and I checked for Isaac’s email, eager to see what information he had shared that would help put my mind at ease. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed Nathan had responded to my earlier IM with his address. Part of me wanted to cancel, take the time instead to go over the information from Isaac and make sure I was fully prepared for Friday night. But seeing that address in the corner of my screen made me realize how badly I wanted to go.
I jotted the address down, and then dug into Isaac’s email. There were a lot of things he wanted me to cover and I resisted the urge to run to Bailey
’s office and raise the white flag. I worked through the rest of the afternoon, alternating between familiarizing myself with Isaac’s requests and checking the time. Finally, shortly after six o’clock, I packed up my things and headed to the bathroom. I’d opted to forgo going all the way home to change, but knew I definitely needed to freshen up.
My nerves were strung tight, but I couldn’t escape the small knot of excitement that had settled in my belly. I had promised myself to just relax, enjoy the evening, and let it go where it would. I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment, before pulling all the pins from my hair and shaking it loose. It fell heavily down my back and I fluffed it up with my fingers.
Too much?
I decided to go with it, and moved on to reapplying my mascara and gloss. I squirted a few shots of body spray I had in my bag, and finally satisfied I didn’t look or feel as if I’d slept in my clothes, I headed down to the lobby.
“Miss Andrews,” the security guard called as I passed his desk. “Here, this is for you.”
I stopped as he handed me a white envelope, the front of which was blank. Intrigued, I opened it and found a small note inside, written in a sloping masculine scrawl.
You’re probably wondering if you should cancel. You shouldn’t . . . I’m grilling
steak and plan to turn on my incredible charm, both of which I’m pretty sure are
hard to resist. You don’t want to miss it, trust me.
Nathan
P.S. Don’t make me come get you.
My cheeks flushed as I read his words. He was right on all counts, and I had not even the slightest doubt that if I did cancel on him, he would seek me out at my apartment just as he promised. Stomach clenching in nervous anticipation, I tossed the note in my bag and headed out to hail a cab.
Chapter Eleven
Made to Love Page 9