Bailey looked just as stunned as I was, but began making notes on his I-pad. “And the Johnson & Johnson account?”
“It can wait until her return. This matter should take no more than two days, three at the most. Arrange for a return flight on Friday evening. Make sure you provide her with an itinerary.”
I suppose it should have bothered me somewhat that they were discussing me as if I wasn’t even there, but I was still too shocked to pay much attention.
I was going to Vegas. My mind was still reeling.
Should I tell Nathan?
“I have a ten o’clock call, and I’m sure you have work to do.” Isaac was already picking up his phone, having effectively dismissed us.
Bailey and I exited the office, and I turned to him and blindly clutched his arm. “Tell me this is not a joke.”
He peeled my hand away from his arm, and patted my shoulder. “It’s not a joke, honey. And please, no claw marks. I do not want to have to explain something like that to James.”
We arrived at his office, and I paused. “Bailey, seriously. Why me? I mean, surely there is someone more qualified—“
“Stop it,” Bailey commanded, as he held up his hand. “You are just as every bit qualified as someone else, and they obviously see that. Look, I’ll get the information to you asap, but you need get out of here. You have a trip to pack for!” With a wink, he disappeared into his office.
Bailey was good on his word, and the details on the client I was to meet arrived less than thirty minutes after I’d gotten back to my office. Tyler Winston had done business with Elite before, and owned a hotel chain in the mid-west. It was quite the lucrative one, as well, although it was known as “the other W”, and not to be confused with the Westin.
Bailey’s information also included an itinerary and my flight schedule. I was leaving tonight at six-thirty, and would be staying at the hotel itself, Winston Suites. I fired off a quick email to Brooke, then took Bailey’s advice and packed up the information on Tyler Winston and headed home early. I’d never been to Vegas; what was the weather like this time of year? I had no idea what to pack, and not for the first time, wished Brooke was here.
“Vegas? Wow!” Helen was excited for me, as I quickly brought her up to speed on my travel plans.
“I know, right? I’m nervous, but kinda excited, too. I just hope I don’t blow it.” I pulled a suitcase from my closet as I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder.
“Honey, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Your boss must have some confidence in you or he wouldn’t send you,” Helen echoed Bailey’s earlier encouragement. “I am so happy for you. You’ll have to call when you get back and fill me in.”
“Thanks, and I will.”
I punched the end button and began rifling through my closet. I was contemplating a simple navy knee-length dress when my cell phone pinged. I had a response from Brooke. I brought up my work email on the screen and scrolled through her reply:
Am so happy for you! You will love Vegas! Wish I was there with you. Feel free to borrow anything from my closet. . .Vegas is HOT this time of year. Dresses will be good! Knock ‘em dead, gorgeous! Brooke
P.S. Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. . .or would do! J
I smiled as I turned back to my closet. Brooke was proving to be a good friend. Our schedules didn’t always allow for much bonding time, had I been so inclined to actually ‘bond’, but we were getting to know each other. While our conversations never became too deep or personal, I was grateful for the friendship. She had never pressed me about my mom’s dress, although I had caught her staring at it on more than one occasion while she’d been browsing through my closet. She obviously knew there was a story there, but she’d never asked beyond that first time.
Truth was, I missed having her here.
Heaving a sigh after deciding my wardrobe options were rather limited, I headed into Brooke’s room. The girl had enough clothes to fill a department store. As I pulled a coral and white striped pencil skirt from a hanger for inspection, I thought again of Nathan.
Should I tell him I was leaving?
I didn’t know when he would be returning from Boston. Would he wonder where I was when he got back? I knew I didn’t owe him any explanations, but part of me wanted to let him know. Perhaps it stemmed from my own selfish wish that he would actually care if I would be gone, and want to know where I was.
Then again, he hadn’t let me know he was leaving for an undetermined amount of time, so why did I feel obligated?
Why was I stressing over it?
He’d find out when he came back.
Chapter Sixteen
Nathan
Thunder rolled outside my window, an evening summer storm blowing in. The darkened sky matched my black mood, and the booming thunder seemed to give voice to the growing frustration I felt curling through me.
It was Tuesday morning, and I had been in Boston since Sunday night. I had dealt with Jerry Blackstone, and his crazy ass whims, since I’d gotten here. While that hadn’t helped my mood, it wasn’t the reason for my frustration.
Why hadn’t I texted Reagan back the other night? Or, better yet, why hadn’t I called her? Reaching out to me, unsolicited, was a big thing for her. I knew it. She had probably mustered every ounce of courage she possessed to send me that innocent text and I hadn’t given her the courtesy of a reply. I couldn’t use the lame excuse that I hadn’t received it. I always had my phone; we both knew that.
Of course, the real reason I hadn’t responded, and the ultimate source of my pissy mood, was what I had been doing when the text had come through. Even now, the thought of Whitney Bradshaw, and the things we had done, caused my stomach to turn. I had regretted it the minute my body had found release; sooner, if truth be told. And now, because of my inability to keep it in my pants, the woman was becoming a nuisance. Apparently my mother had felt the need to provide Whitney with my office number—not my cell; even my mother knew better than that—and since my office calls were routed to my cell anytime I was away, I had already received three voice messages to make sure I knew her stay had been extended another week, and did I want to get together?
I knew it wasn’t because of some great desire to insert herself into the Preston family. No, she was bored, and looking to appease her aunt’s desire to insert herself into the Preston family. I probably wasn’t the only one she had banged in the short time she’d been in town, either. Whitney Bradshaw didn’t strike me so much as a social climber, as she did a bed hopper. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself for joining the ranks of her bedmates.
I had chosen to simply ignore the woman, hoping she’d take the hint. She was thankfully scheduled to leave town by the weekend so perhaps I would escape without further interaction. Her calls, though, had simply kept our interlude in the forefront of my mind, when I wanted nothing more than to pretend it had never happened. The unwarranted, yet undeniable, guilt it brought me was crushing.
And that is why I hadn’t responded to Reagan. She didn’t know about Whitney, and probably never would, but I did. And the knowledge had gnawed at me all weekend.
But now, I had a new outlook. Now, I was anxious to put the ugly episode behind me and concentrate on solidifying my friendship with Reagan, inserting myself in her life and thereby increasing my chances of eventually wearing her down and getting her in my bed.
Because really, this had gone on long enough.
I wanted her. Badly. More than I’d ever wanted a woman in my life. I was weary of only dreaming of having those incredible legs wrapped around me as I brought her to release, of feeling her bare skin writhing against mine, of biting that deliciously plump bottom lip of hers and making her scream.
I would have her, I didn’t doubt that. It was not a matter of if, but when. And I wanted that when to be soon.
Very soon.
Feeling an urgency to be done here and on my way back to Manhattan, I left some last minute instructions with Chase Martin, the Boston a
ccount manager, and then headed to my car. With any luck, I would be back in town by early evening.
I woke early Wednesday morning, eager to seek Reagan out at the office. I had punched out a hasty text reply to her late last night, but had deleted it. It had been three days since she’d reached out to me; I figured it would be better to smooth over my lack of reply in person rather than some random text in the middle of the night when she was most likely sleeping.
“Good morning, George,” I said by way of greeting as I leaned over the security desk. I had been to my office, but knew Reagan usually arrived around this time. Deciding I could not wait for a report on her whereabouts in the building, I would pace the lobby, and chat up George until she arrived.
My eagerness to see her outweighed my concern over looking like a stalker.
“Mr. Preston, good to see you back. How was Boston?”
“Crisis diverted; thank you for asking. How are things here?” I asked.
“Quiet.” He shifted in his seat and then, “She’s not here, you know.”
That much was obvious. “Ah, I’m sure she’ll be arriving any minute.” No sense in pretending we both didn’t know why I was here.
George’s face furrowed, and he again shifted in his seat. Something was making him uncomfortable and I felt a sense of foreboding. “What is it?” I demanded.
“Miss Andrews left last night. I thought you knew.”
I ignored the increase of my heart and gripped the edge of the security desk. “No, I did not know, George. Do you think I would be standing here like an idiot if I did?” I snapped. Realizing this was not his fault, I closed my eyes briefly and willed myself to calm the hell down. I was sounding just like my father, and I hated that. “Details. Now.”
“She left last night on a flight to Vegas for some meeting. Mr. Reynolds—he’s back, you know—requested she go. I’m not quite sure of the duration, but I believe she is scheduled to be there until Friday.”
My eyes narrowed as I racked my brain, searching for a reason she was needed in Vegas. What the hell?
I wasn’t sure I even thanked George for the information as I swiftly turned and headed for the elevators.
“Isaac, glad to have you back.” I walked into Isaac Reynolds office unannounced. It didn’t go unnoticed that his jaw twitched with annoyance at my intrusion. I didn’t give a shit. Reagan was over a thousand miles away and he was going to tell me why.
“Nathan, I wasn’t expecting you this morning.” Isaac pushed back from his desk and stood.
I unbuttoned my suit jacket and sat down in the chair across from his desk. If he had plans for this to be a brief interruption, he was mistaken. He shuffled through some paperwork, and upon realizing I wasn’t going anywhere, sat back down. “What can I do for you?”
For the first time since hearing she was across the country, I stopped and thought about how my demands of her itinerary would appear, to not only Isaac, but anyone else who learned of it. She was fiercely protective of her work, and the ability to stand on her own two feet, and I didn’t want to raise any red flags.
Of course, I had convinced this man to hire her, a decision that seemed to be benefitting him greatly.
“I need an update on the Johnson and Johnson account. I stopped by Miss Andrews’s office, but she doesn’t appear to be in yet.”
Isaac gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The account is coming along just fine. I sent your father an update just this morning.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at me over the rims of his glasses. “I wasn’t aware you needed an update as well, or I could have emailed you and saved you a trip.”
He wasn’t going to give me the answers I wanted so quickly, and we sat in silence for a moment, sizing each other up.
I have never liked this man.
“Well, now you know. Why don’t you have Miss Andrews meet me this afternoon? Bring the necessary players and we can go over the details,” I casually suggested, ignoring the urge to pick him up by his cardigan sweater and slam him up against the wall, forcing him to give me the information I needed.
Perhaps I was more like my father than I cared to admit.
“I’m afraid Miss Andrews is unavailable until Friday,” Isaac answered, seeming to find pleasure in delivering this blow.
I leaned forward in my chair, waiting for more, but again, he was determined to keep me in the dark. I gave him a mocking smile of my own. “It’s not like you to be so forgetful, Isaac. I shouldn’t have to remind you that the Johnson and Johnson account is a priority. Unless there has been some personal emergency, Miss Andrews is needed here.”
He looked as if he would rather tell me to piss off, but Isaac Reynolds knew on which side his bread was buttered. He could only go so far. “Miss Andrews’s personal affairs are of no interest to me. Since you weren’t privy to the update I sent over this morning, I’ll fill you in. The Johnsons are more than pleased with the newest developments and signed off on everything approximately,” he checked his watch, “thirty-seven minutes ago.” He leaned forward. “Again, Miss Andrews is consulting on the Winston project and will be unavailable until Friday.”
I felt gutted. The Winston project. . .as in Tyler Winston.
Tyler Winston? The man who had, just a little over a week ago, bragged about wanting to get in her pants?
Like hell he would.
I stood. Enough with these cryptic statements, filled with only enough truth to appease me as his superior and keep his job intact. I would go to the source myself. “I expect a progress report daily.”
Without waiting for a response, I stalked back to my office. I needed to plan for a way to get her out of there.
Now.
Nathan
“Nathan, let’s talk about this. Jetting off to Vegas? Really? What are you gonna do, barge in on her meeting and force her to come home, embarrassing her and ruining any chance you have in the process?”
I paced stubbornly back and forth, refusing to see any sort of logic in Jake’s words. “She is out there with Tyler Winston,” I bit out, as if that explained everything.
Jake slid a moving box out of his way and hopped up on the edge of his kitchen island counter. “That ass?”
I paused in my pacing, and raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say “now you understand”. He popped the top off a beer and gave me a stern look. “Okay. Tyler Winston aside, you can’t rush in like a Neanderthal and expect her to be happy about it. This is her job. You’re her boss’s boss. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t kick your sorry ass to the curb, boss or not.”
He had a point, and I planted myself in a chair amongst the boxes. It had been my first instinct to fly to Vegas and do exactly as Jake had suggested, consequences be damned. I didn’t want her anywhere near Tyler Winston, and the thought that she was, was unbearable.
But Jake was right. Interfering in this did run the risk of ruining the friendship we’d established and then where would I be? Reagan was deathly devoted to her work, and unlike the Johnson dinner, where my presence could easily be explained away, flying out to Vegas was something else entirely.
But still. “If he so much as touches. . .”
Jake laughed. “She won’t even let you out of the friend zone. Do you really think she’ll fall that easily to Winston in a mere matter of days? I thought you said she was smart.”
“Very,” I immediately replied.
“Well, then, I think you have nothing to worry about. Wait it out and see her when she returns.” Jake hopped off the counter and handed me a beer. “Since you’re here, I have something I want to show you.”
My interest piqued as he handed me a folder. I flipped through it, recognizing lease agreements for office space, and other legal documents. “What is this?”
Jake sat down across from me. “Now that I’ll be stationary here, I am thinking about opening my own medical practice. Something small; general medicine. I’ve been looking at some space downtown; wondered if you’d mind tagg
ing along next week and giving me your insight.”
I looked at him in amazement. “Hell, yeah, I will. Good for you, man. I can have legal take a look at these contracts if you want,” I offered.
“I do, thanks. Now, you gonna help me unpack or sit here crying in your beer all night?” Jake challenged.
I took in the mountains of boxes throughout his kitchen and dining area, then scowled at him. “How much shit do you have anyway? You’re worse than a woman.”
We set about unpacking until I finally convinced him to let me hire some help. I left him that evening with his contracts in hand, and a promise to meet up with him the following week to look at real estate. I was happy he was moving forward without Heather, and realizing his dream of owning his own clinic.
My mind was still unsettled on my own problem, though, despite his earlier pep talk. While I realized I could not show up in Vegas unannounced, the thought of Tyler having unrestricted access to Reagan for three days was barely tolerable. Just because I couldn’t go there, didn’t mean I would sit and do nothing.
I catalogued my contacts in Vegas in my head. Perhaps one of them would stop by Winston Suites, just to catch up, and see what was what.
Satisfied that I was at least doing something, little though it was, I headed home.
Reagan
“You hungry?”
Tyler Winston had proved, so far, to be a gracious host. He appeared to be around Nathan’s age, and while I was sure he was considered among the masses as quite handsome, he paled in comparison to Nathan.
We had spent yesterday at the site of his newest hotel, and I had met several of the crew working there. Later, we had gone back to his office and he had shown me some ideas he had about his websites, and what direction he wanted to go with it. Overall, I was impressed with his good business sense and was excited to offer suggestions of my own, which he’d pleasantly accepted.
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