The Billionaire's Homecoming

by Christina Tetreault

  “No idea. Hopefully not too long. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

  Although he seemed oblivious to the glances other people on the sidewalk sent their way, she wasn’t. “Afterward, if you want to talk, call me.” Unlike her sister, she’d never been one to go to bed early.

  They entered the parking garage, and she went straight toward the stairwell. She found the elevators to be slow and avoided them. Jen figured by doing so she always got in a little exercise, and some days the trip up and down the stairs was the only exercise she managed.

  “If it’s not too late, I will. But I don’t want to keep you up tonight.” His hand landed on her lower back. “Tomorrow night is another story.” His breath was a soft caress against her ear. “Should I come to your house or do you want to come to mine?”

  His various campaign obligations had him driving all over the state. She couldn’t help him with any of that, but she could make his life a little simpler and drive to North Salem tomorrow night. “I can come up after work.” She stopped next to her car and opened the door. “Or later if you won’t be home then. Whatever works for you.” She tossed her bags in the car.

  Brett eliminated the space between them, his chest coming in contact with her breasts. “Come right after work. By the time you get there, I should be home.” His hands cupped her face, and he kissed her. “Pack enough for a few days.” He kissed her again, this one lasting longer. “And bring along Bo so you can spend the weekend.” He took her mouth again, his tongue darting inside to touch hers.

  The sounds and smells around her disappeared into the background as she gave herself over to Brett’s skilled mouth. Every pass of his lips over hers sent another ripple of sensual excitement through her body. Somehow each one managed to be more intense than the one before it.

  “I wish you didn’t have your meeting tonight,” she said when he finally pulled away.

  He kissed the erratic pulse in her neck. “Believe me, I do too.” He kissed the spot again. “I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

  Hoping to get her breathing back to normal, she took in a slow, deep breath and then blew it out. “I should have you put that in writing in case you change your mind.”

  The hands he’d moved around her waist while kissing her came back to her face. “Any promise I make to you, I’ll keep.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brett watched Jen back out of her parking spot. He was used to putting in long hours, but for some reason, the last couple weeks were taking a toll on him. He chalked it up to the fact the stress he was under now was much different than what he’d grown accustomed too.

  Before Jen started for the exit, she smiled and waved at him. Only after she was on her way did Brett walk further down the garage to his car. A sound to his left caught his attention, and he watched another person back out of a parking spot. In fact, all around him people were getting ready to leave the city for the night.

  Idiot. He gave himself a mental smack to the back of the head. They’d been in a very public parking garage. Anyone could’ve seen them kissing near her car. While they hadn’t been doing anything inappropriate, a potential United States Senator shouldn’t be seen making out in a downtown parking garage. He needed to be more careful. Right now, his opponents had nothing scandalous to use against him. He, along with his dad and Carl, wanted it to stay that way.

  Brett rubbed the spot over his right eye and got behind the wheel. He kept a bottle of ibuprofen in the glove box. After starting the engine, he grabbed the bottle, popped three pills in his mouth, and swallowed. Hopefully, they’d take the edge off his headache, allowing him to make it through his upcoming meeting. Afterward he’d grab a few hours of sleep before heading back into Boston so he could put in a couple hours at Homeland Security before driving to Westborough for a luncheon at the senior center there.

  From the moment he got on Interstate 95 in Providence, the traffic remained stop and go. It didn’t let up as he crossed the state line and continued north toward Boston. Somehow though, he managed to reach the garage near Carl’s office with ten minutes to spare, even after stopping along the way for a much-needed extra-large coffee. Thankfully, between the caffeine and the three ibuprofens he’d taken, it no longer felt as if his head might explode right on the sidewalk, ending his political aspirations.

  “Brett, you look terrible,” Dad said when he saw him.

  He’d invited Dad to today’s meeting. His father had his share of political experience, and Brett valued his opinion just as much as that of the people he’d hired to work on the campaign. Tonight, Brett had pulled into the parking garage just as his dad was getting out of his car.

  “Are you feeling okay tonight?” Dad asked.

  “Just a little tired. It’s been a busy week,” Brett answered. “Nothing some sleep won’t take care of.”

  “So I’ve heard. But it’s paying off. The polls still have you ahead of Smith by a wide margin.”

  He’d gotten the newest poll updates from Carl earlier today. While pleased with the data, he knew the battle wasn’t over yet. A man like Ted Smith wouldn’t go down without a damn good fight.

  Dad reached the building entrance first and pulled open the door. “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you before you left the engagement party or since.”

  Other than the brief conversation when they first arrived, Brett hadn’t had a moment alone with his dad. Instead he’d spent much of the afternoon with Jen by his side and his family around him. For the hour or so when Jen had been busy with his female relations, he’d hung out with his brother and cousins. But if Dad had really needed or wanted to speak privately with him again, the man would’ve found an opportunity to pull him aside.

  “Your mom and I both liked Jen. She seemed comfortable with the family too.”

  He’d noticed that by the time they’d left his uncle’s house, she was acting as if she’d known his family all her life.

  “Next time you have some free time, bring her over. We’d like to spend more time with the two of you.” They stepped into the elevator and Dad pressed the button for Carl’s floor. “Maybe Curt and Taylor can join us.”

  It sounded like Dad had already accepted Taylor into the family fold—not that his younger brother would end his relationship with Taylor if their dad didn’t like her.

  “I think you and your brother have both found women who’ll fit nicely into the family. Your mom agrees with me.”

  When it came to whom he dated, Brett didn’t need his parents’ approval. However, the fact they both liked Jen and we’re prepared to welcome her to the family pleased him.

  The light indicating they’d reached the tenth floor lit up, and the doors opened. “Will do. But it might not be for several weeks.” He didn’t have a lot of free time. What little he had, he’d rather spend with Jen, not Jen, his parents, and brother.

  They approached the reception area and Brett checked in with the office receptionist.

  “Yes, I’ve seen your upcoming schedule. I think you should plan to take Jen to some of the events,” Dad said while they waited to go into Carl’s office.

  “Why?”

  “Voters view a candidate in a stable relationship more favorably than one who’s single. While you have a decent lead over Ted, there’s no reason not do everything you can to increase and maintain it. Trust me. Showing up with Jen will go a long way with the voters.”

  Down the hallway, Carl’s office door opened and his assistant started toward the reception area. Before she reached them and overheard their conversation, Brett said, “I’m not sure how Jen would feel about coming.”

  “If you win this election, she’ll have to get used to such events. The sooner you help her get used to them, the better.”

  They hadn’t talked about how his life would change if he won and what it would mean to their relationship. It wasn’t that he was avoiding it. It simply hadn’t occurred to him, and she never brought up the topic. Brett didn’t know if his d
ad was right about voters liking candidates in stable relationships more or not, but he was right about Jen having to attending various social events if he won. He’d have to prepare her for the possibility.

  “I’ll talk to her about coming to a few. I’m seeing her this weekend,” Brett said.

  Carl’s assistant, Dee, reached them and smiled. “Good evening, gentlemen. Mr. Filmore is ready for you.”

  Later he’d review his upcoming schedule and see which public events Jen might be interested in. Right now, he’d concentrate on getting through this meeting despite the sudden renewed pounding in his head.

  Chapter Eleven

  Phillip reviewed the newest data. Despite all the baby kissing and handshaking Ted had done over the past couple of weeks, his numbers were not moving. They’d already spent a small fortune on television commercials and billboard ads. He had teams of Smith supporters out knocking on doors and putting up signs in every town and city across the Bay state. None of those efforts were paying off either. Like Phillip had feared it would, Ted’s ultimate successes hinged on his plan to uncover something they could use against the golden boy, Brett Sherbrooke. And when Ted arrived in a few minutes, he’d want an update on Phillip’s progress.

  Up until several hours ago, he had feared they’d hit a brick wall on that front. It seemed everyone known to associate with Brett had just as disgustingly clean a background as he did. They couldn’t even find a jilted woman or one-night stand in the man’s past they could exploit to their own end. The man was like a super Boy Scout.

  Today’s edition of the Boston Times had given him a tiny hint of hope though.

  A knock on his office door had him looking up from his computer screen.

  “Mr. Smith is here to see you,” his secretary said, poking her head inside the room.

  “Send him in.” Phillip finished typing the web address in and waited for the Star Report’s website to pop up. He never checked the site out. It contained only celebrity news and gossip, none of which he concerned himself with. Hollywood actors and reality stars didn’t put money in his bank accounts. Politicians did. However, tonight he hoped to find something he could to use to his client’s advantage. Sherbrooke might not be a movie star, but the media treated his family like celebrities. Hopefully, the national media was capitalizing on the same story the Boston Times, the Worcester Daily News, and the Providence Gazette had put out there today.

  “Good to see you again, Phillip.” Ted walked inside the room, his full swagger back in place. The momentary defeat Phillip had witnessed during their last private meeting at Ted’s house was gone and thankfully it hadn’t made a repeat appearance since. Phillip hoped it stayed that way until after the election. Once Ted was in Washington, he didn’t care what happened to him or how he portrayed himself.

  “Help yourself to a drink if you want before we begin.” Phillip pointed toward the well-stocked wet bar across the room. Today’s meeting would only be the two of them. The rest of the campaign staff didn’t even know it was taking place. So if they decided to be more casual than usual, no one would know or care.

  While Ted poured himself something, Phillip turned his attention to the popular magazine’s website landing page. What he saw brought an immediate smile.

  Ted set a drink down near Phillip’s keyboard and sat across from him. “I reviewed the latest numbers,” he said as he raised his glass toward his lips. “They haven’t budged, and we’re running out of time.”

  Phillip was aware of exactly how much time they had left. He didn’t need Ted to remind him.

  “Have you found anything we can use against Sherbrooke? No one can be as perfect as he seems,” Ted said with disgust.

  When it came to most people, Phillip would agree. Much to his annoyance, Brett Sherbrooke did seem above reproach. “I’m not sure. I was about to give up on that angle and focus on another. A new development came up recently.”

  A look of satisfaction crossed Ted’s face. “Excellent. I had my doubts you’d find anything on him. The whole family acts like they’re better than the rest of the world. Regardless of the outcome of this election, I’d be happy to see a member brought down a peg or two.”

  As much as he shared Ted’s sentiments, he needed to set the record straight before Ted got too excited. “My contacts haven’t uncovered anything useful on him.” Phillip swiveled his chair and picked up the top newspaper on the back credenza. “Did you see this today?”

  He passed a copy of the Boston Times, open to the society section, across the desk. A black-and-white photo of Brett Sherbrooke kissing a woman in a parking garage occupied a large portion of the page. A smaller one of them holding hands and walking down a sidewalk was also there, along with a short article by a reporter he wasn’t familiar with.

  “Similar pictures showed up in at least two other papers this morning.” Phillip turned the computer screen so Ted could see the Star Report’s website and the almost identical picture featured there. “The Star Report picked up on the story too.”

  Ted studied the picture in the newspaper and then set it aside. “No, I haven’t seen these. This morning was move-in day for my oldest son at Deerfield Academy. I promised him I’d be there. I went straight from there to my engagement at the VFW in Grafton.” His eyes moved across the computer screen. “Who is she?”

  “The article says her name is Jennifer Wallace, and she works in Providence.” The article hadn’t given him anything useful except her name. He’d started with less information though. If she had any skeletons in her closet, he’d find them.

  “What do we know about her?” Ted asked.

  Phillip looked at the picture again. None of his contacts had uncovered Brett was in a romantic relationship. These pictures told a different story. He was involved with someone. Either it was a recent development or Sherbrooke had a reason for keeping it under the rug.

  “Nothing useful yet. But my people are on it.” Soon he’d know everything from when her birthday was to her favorite place to shop. “If she’s got any secrets, we’ll know about them. Don’t worry. My best people are on it.”

  Ted’s expression grew grim. “I won’t get my hopes up. Judging by what we know of Sherbrooke, he wouldn’t get himself involved with a woman who has something to hide.” He tapped the newspaper on the desk. “Uncover what you can. But I don’t want you wasting all my money on this. Your people have two weeks. After that we’re ditching this strategy altogether.”

  His contacts were good. Two weeks should be more than enough time for them to uncover some useful dirt, assuming there was some out there.

  “In the meantime, I want to revisit my upcoming events. Make sure the topic is given ample time at our meeting.”

  Bright and early Wednesday they had a strategy meeting with Ted’s entire inner circle. Following it the former lieutenant governor had a town hall forum at one of the state’s community colleges. “I’ll make certain we address it,” Phillip said.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Miss Wallace, this is Daniella Nault with the Star Report,” the caller said after Jen answered the phone.

  Not another one. Didn’t these reporters have better things to do with their days than call her? Since the pictures of her and Brett had shown up Monday, she’d been getting a constant string of phone calls and e-mails from various reporters. If being a celebrity was anything like this, she had a new appreciation for the men and women in Hollywood.

  “I hope I’m not catching you at an inconvenient time,” the reporter said.

  In Jen’s opinion, there was no convenient time for this woman or any of her colleagues to call. “Actually, I’m expecting guests.” Normally, she didn’t think of her sister and niece as guests, but if it helped get her out of this conversation without appearing like a rude witch, she’d use their upcoming visit.

  “I understand and won’t keep you long. I was hoping to set up a time for an exclusive interview with you. Ideally it would be in the next couple days so it can make
the next edition of the Star Report. If that’s not possible, I totally understand, and we can schedule it for a time more convenient for you. But I would require you not give any other interviews in the meantime.”

  The easiest thing would be to end the call and hope the reporter didn’t call back. Unfortunately, the easiest thing would also be rude. As a rule, unless left with no other choice, she remained polite no matter the situation or person she faced. The constant calls and surprise visits by reporters all week were making it difficult to follow her personal rule.

  “Ms. Nault, I have been contacted by a handful of other publications.” Jen prepared to give the same speech she’d given to the last three reporters who’d called from major magazines.

  “This isn’t the nineteenth century,” the reporter said with a little laugh. “Call me Daniella.”

  If the reporter thought being on a first-name basis would change anything, she was about to be disappointed. “Daniella, I know it’s not the answer you were hoping for today, but I have no plans to do interviews with anyone. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.

  The first three publications had offered her a not-so-tiny sum of money to sit down and give them an interview they could get out to their readers before any of their competitors. The Star Report would most likely do the same. No matter what dollar amount the media giant presented her with, she’d refuse it.

  “I truly understand your desire to protect your relationship, Jennifer. Really, I do, and in your shoes, I’d have my reservations as well.”

  Well, this is a different approach. The other reporters had become argumentative when she refused. “Thank you.”

  “But I still must ask you to reconsider. Many consider the Sherbrooke family American Royalty. People care about them and want glimpses into both their private and public lives.”

  Jen didn’t disagree with the reporter’s comments. People did love to read about the Sherbrookes. When it came to her and Brett’s relationship, she didn’t care about what the public wanted.