My Bossy Protector: A Best Friend’s Brother Romance

by Charlize Starr

  “She’s not raising them to be in the business. You knew how to balance a ledger at twelve. How to—”

  “Yes, yes. You did a good job, father. What’s your point, is what I’m wondering.” Matt picked up his forgotten bourbon and took a sip. It burned going down his throat, but it was a welcome heat.

  “I need to see some maturity from you, son. Prove your worth to this company, learn to see the big picture, and, damn it, date someone for more than a month. Settle down.”

  “You’re retiring in three months. You expect me to do all this before then?”

  “If you can somehow swing a miracle, that’d be nice. Otherwise, Gary will take your place, until you’re ready to head this company.”

  The unfairness of it all threatened to erupt from him, but his father would see that as no more than a petty, and childish tantrum. Matt did, indeed, need a miracle. He needed some way he could convince his father he was ready to take the company into the future, without becoming tied down with an unappreciative wife and a few kids he’d never have time for.

  ***

  Brooke Monroe was already late for work, but Matt would understand. He knew she had obligations to help her father care for himself. She’d made him breakfast and he was trying the new weighted fork she’d purchased from a website for people with Parkinson’s. Her dad had been diagnosed seven years ago, before her mother’s death. He’d went downhill quite a bit since becoming a widower.

  Brooke made her way through the small kitchen into the cluttered living room. She couldn’t find her keys anywhere. This place was wrecked. She tried to make strides on it when she actually got to be at home instead of traveling for work, but there was just too little room with her and her father’s things piled into the two-bedroom apartment. They’d had to sell the family home to cover her mother’s medical bills after she died.

  And that was her biggest problem now—her dad should be in an assisted living home, but his insurance refused to cover it. She picked up a box of old records and her keys fell to the floor. She assumed her father must’ve moved the box last night onto her keys without realizing.

  The CNA who came by twice a week would be in today to check on her father and make sure he took his medication and had a good lunch. On other days, Brooke had to lay everything out, labeled with post-it notes detailing which pills he should take and when, what container his lunch was in, and how long should he heat it.

  When she went out of town, her friend Carrie, a child psychologist, checked in on her dad and helped take care of him. She was utterly indebted to Carrie for the help, but Carrie herself always said she had no family of her own to care for, so she liked helping.

  “I’m leaving now, Daddy. Bye!”

  “This fork is great, Brooke. It’s helping a lot.”

  She paused, door open. Her dad tended to be impulsive now and focused on what entered his mind at the time. Sometimes, like when she was late for work, it was a struggle to be patient, but she tried so hard. “That’s great. I’m going now. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Have a good day at work.”

  Brooke rushed out to her car and turned the key. It roared to life. She wished she’d had time to warm it up some. Mornings were still pretty chilly here in Chicago, but she’d just have to let her coat do its job and keep her warm.

  She mused to herself, making the drive to the business sector, how she could do more for her father. Without more money, she couldn’t. She made enough to support herself; his income paid for his medications, co-pays, and insurance. There just wasn’t any extra, even between the two of them, to pay for more care or the assisted living home she’d found. If only she’d win the lottery. Unfortunately, Brooke was far too practical to squander her money playing the lottery, so it seemed unlikely.

  She just felt so awful for her dad. Her parents had had the perfect marriage—this wasn’t the life they’d envisioned sharing together one day.

  And she didn’t know when—between traveling for work and taking care of her father—she’d ever get the chance to meet the perfect man for her. Besides all that, who would believe she wanted to wait until marriage before having sex when she traveled constantly with one of the world’s most famous playboys?

  Never mind that she was halfway in love with her boss—who would never settle down again in a million years. Matt was so generous and understanding. It was a shame he was so against loving again. Not like she had a chance with someone like him anyway. He dated supermodels and famous actresses.

  It was with a lot on her mind that Brooke finally pulled into her parking space at work, a perk Matt insisted she needed. She rushed upstairs and got off of one elevator just as Matt was getting off another.

  “Miss Monroe, you finally made it.”

  He called her Brooke most of the time. He only called her Miss Monroe because she had the same platinum blonde hair and clear blue eyes as Marilyn Monroe. The comparison ended there; where Marilyn was curvy, Brooke was thin and petite. Mostly, Matt knew it annoyed her.

  “Yes, Mr. Cross.” That annoyed him worse. He hated formality when they worked so closely together. Brooke had told Matt all about her father and the duties she had to take care of for him.

  He’d offered to pay for the assisted living home, but Brooke couldn’t bring herself, no matter how much she needed it, to accept such a gift. How would she hold her head up, knowing how very much it cost, how much she owed him?

  “Stop calling me that.” They fell into step together as they made their way to his office. “We’re leaving for Vegas this evening.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. We just got back from London.”

  “I know, but it can’t be helped.” He opened the door for her and she settled in at her desk. She had messages to go through, correspondence to sort. So much work to do since they’d been in London for five days.

  She looked up when he didn’t leave. He just stood in front of her desk. “Is something wrong?”

  “How was everything at home today?”

  “It’s pretty obvious I’ve had a rough morning—I’m an hour late. Why?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m going out for the rest of the day. You leave here by three, so you can pack, and meet me at the airport at eight.”

  “You’ve already booked our flight?” She found it hard to believe Matt could do that on his own. She was his right hand, and she knew it. It paid well and at least she had job security. That was more than a lot of people could say.

  He backed away from her desk, lifting his hand in a goodbye salute. “Had someone else do it. See you tonight.”

  Perfect. She had five hours to get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk.

  ***

  Thank God, Brooke had managed to make it to the airport before boarding. Now they sat in their first class seats and the plane had just taken off. It wouldn’t be as long as a transatlantic flight, like last time.

  “I don’t know why we don’t ride in business class, Matt. Flying in first class makes me feel like I’m bilking the company.”

  “It’s my choice to fly in first class. I’m a VP so it’s not an issue. I’d pay the difference if it was.” He settled back into his padded seat. “I like first class.”

  “But I’m not a VP. I’m just your assistant. You should at least put me in business class.”

  “If I did that, who would I talk to during the flight?”

  She quirked her lips and shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  After a few minutes, she stood. “I’m going to go to the restroom. Watch out for the cougar up the aisle. I think she recognizes you.”

  “And you’re going to leave me here to be devoured by a hungry cougar?”

  “Your own fault for dating all those famous women.” She headed down the aisle.

  It only took a minute for the woman to unbuckle her seat belt, make her way over, and sit down in Brooke’s seat. “You’re Matt Cross. I recognized you from that article in People. It’s a shame about you
r breakup last week.”

  “It didn’t happen last week. It was in the magazine last week. But thanks for the sentiment.”

  She put her forearm on the armrest between them, letting her hand dangle so her fingertips grazed his thigh.

  He nearly jumped. “I’m sorry, but my fiancée will be back in just a minute.”

  “She didn’t look like your fiancée. And how did you break up with someone last week and get engaged already?” She pressed her hand firmly into his thigh, just below his groin. “Besides, I don’t mind. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

  “Madame, I would never cheat on my fiancée. I love her desperately.”

  Brooke made her way up the aisle, completely absorbed in thought.

  “There you are, darling,” he said.

  Brooke looked at him, confusion clearly stamped across her face.

  “This is your fiancée?” The older woman said, sitting back stiffly in Brooke’s chair. “I don’t believe it. Kiss her.”

  “Excuse me?” Brooke asked.

  Matt met Brooke’s gaze, pleading with his eyes for her to just go along with this. “Fine,” he said.

  Brooke gave a terse nod. “Right. Fine.”

  Matt took her wrist in his hand and placed a tender kiss there.

  “On. The. Lips.” The woman, who hadn’t budged from Brooke’s seat, raised an eyebrow in challenge. She had no intention of moving, of leaving Matt alone, if he didn’t prove to her he was a devoted fiancé.

  “I wasn’t finished.” Matt tugged on Brooke’s wrist. She tripped over the woman’s legs and landed in his lap. Without letting himself think about it, because this was Brooke, he sealed his lips to hers.

  Brooke gasped, opening her mouth, and Matt slid his tongue into the warm recess. Electric shocks coursed through his body, straight to his dick, which twitched to life. What?

  Shock quickly followed the attraction. But, his mouth was still on hers, and, damn it, he might never get the chance to do this again. He nibbled on her lip and her arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. She responded, little fluttery touches of her tongue against his own.

  She smelled like peaches, a treat he’d loved as a kid and hadn’t thought of in years. It was like slipping back into the sun’s warmth after a long winter. One of them moaned, he didn’t even know which at this point.

  “Jesus, I get it,” the woman next to him muttered.

  And, still, he continued to kiss her. Had any kiss ever tasted this sweet? What had he been missing for the last four years, treating Brooke as his assistant, his friend, when there was so much more to discover?

  Breathless, Brooke pulled back first. She was still planted on his lap, her tight ass pressing almost painfully into the erection he now sported.

  The woman just sat there, staring at them both.

  Brooke cleared her throat. “I’m going to have to insist that you return to your seat. This is turning into harassment.”

  The woman got up and, as gracefully as she could, Brooke stood, swiped a hand down her skirt, and sat back down in her seat. She picked up her book and began reading again, never meeting Matt’s gaze.

  He’d never thought of Brooke this way before. She was his employee, and confidant, but touching her soft skin, he’d become aware of the way her fitted blouse hugged her curves. Her pencil skirt came down to mid-calf, but her legs up to that point were a sight. Come to think of it, Brooke was trim and fit, and her breasts would be exactly enough to fit in the palms of his hands.

  That was it. He sat up straighter in his chair, took a drink of his whiskey. He had to stop thinking of her this way. He’d always known she was attractive by any measure, with her shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. And those pliant, perfect lips were full and generous.

  This wasn’t really a big deal. Anyone could see she was gorgeous. He’d be over it before the plane landed. All the same, he pulled out his iPad, determined to do some work and occupy his overactive mind.

  ***

  The next day, Matt and Brooke headed for the hotel bar. They’d spent a dull day examining the hotel’s books. He’d spent the long day trying to forget that kiss on the plane, the desire that had pumped through him, and the fact that he couldn’t stop seeing her as a woman now.

  Her expression was pinched as they entered.

  “Work getting you down?” he asked as they hopped up onto a couple of bar stools.

  “My dad.” She sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder to leave him. He needs more care. I worry so much that his feet will get twisted up, he’ll fall, and no one will find him until the next day.”

  Matt ordered for them—bourbon for him, a tequila for Brooke. Normally she’d have a glass of wine, but this kind of worry called for something stronger.

  “What about assisted living? Weren’t you looking into that as an option?”

  “Insurance came back with a final answer.” She threw the tequila back and slammed the glass on the bar. “One more.”

  “And?”

  “And… no. They refuse to pay for it.”

  He put his hand over hers, then pulled it away. No touching, not anymore. His attraction to her made his feelings all confusing, and he didn’t want to muddy the waters. “My offer still stands. I’ll pay for it. I can afford it, Brooke. You know I can.”

  Matt earned money from interest faster than he could spend it. This would be nothing for him to do, but he couldn’t just do it. Brooke had to agree, which she’d yet to do.

  “You know I can’t let you do that. I won’t take advantage of our friendship.” She tossed back the second tequila. “I’m starting to feel human again.”

  A guy weaved his way across the bar to stand between Brooke and the next bar stool over. Matt could smell the beer on his breath from where he was. He could only imagine how overpowering it was to Brooke, given that the man was right up in her personal space.

  “I’mma buy you a drink, honey.”

  “No, thank you.” Brooke’s voice was as hard as he’d ever heard it.

  The man held up a finger to the bartender. “Another beer for me and one more of whatever she’s having.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The bartender put down the beer and the shot and walked away. He wasn’t going to be any help.

  Matt stood up beside Brooke, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Get out of here.”

  “What’s it to ya?” The man wavered as he stepped behind Brooke and right up to Matt.

  “I’m her fiancé.”

  Beside them, her back to this altercation—which wouldn’t be a fair fight since the guy was blind drunk—Brooke snorted.

  Matt almost laughed himself. It was ridiculous that he’d pulled the same trick in two days. Maybe he was hoping the guy would demand a kiss and he could finagle Brooke back into his arms.

  “Oh.” The guy belched, turned, and toddled off.

  Matt motioned the bartender over. “No more drinks for him tonight. And if he’s not staying here, make sure he gets a room so he doesn’t have to drive.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m Matt Cross. My family owns this fine establishment.”

  The bartender’s eyes got as big as shot glasses. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “Yeah, you should be. We don’t just let men harass women in our bars.”

  “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.”

  Matt intended to make sure of that. But first… he gave Brooke an appraising look. She was still having a lousy day and between those awful books and his all day hard-on for her, so was he. “Let’s go up to my room and raid the mini-bar.”

  Her eyes widened just a bit, but then she nodded. “Sure.”

  Because they were friends. Why wouldn’t she be safe with Matt? And she would be, damn it. Matt wouldn’t take advantage of her. They’d have a couple of drinks and he’d walk her to her room.

  They went upstairs and had their two drinks. Then they decided to have two more. It was at th
at point, Matt knew he should take her back to her room, tuck her into bed, and get back to his own room for some sleep. They’d arrived late last night and had been going since early morning.

  Brooke laughed at him when he suggested it. “Oh, come on. Order us a bottle of tequila from the bar. You’re the boss. What are they going to do? Say no?”

  When the bottle arrived, Matt poured them both an overly generous shot. “To our dads,” he said.

  “What about them?”

  “Yours needs decent health care and mine… well, mine is being an ass. But, let’s drink to them anyway!”

  She did her shot then toppled onto the bed laughing. Seeing her on the bed, arousal whipped through him. He sat down beside of her and took her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it gently. “I can’t stop thinking about our kiss, Brooke.”

  “Oh, me, either. It was the best. Kiss. Ever.”

  He pulled her into his arms, and she came fluidly. “Have you thought about taking it further?”

  “Oh, I can’t. I mean, I want to. I’ve never wanted to like I want to now. But, I’m waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “Marriage.” She tucked her head down, cheeks burning pink.

  “Like… Brooke, are you a virgin?” Shit, what he wouldn’t give to be inside of her now, pumping into her tight—no. She just said she wanted to wait for marriage. He wasn’t getting anywhere near her.

  “Then…” He tilted his forehead against hers, lifting her face with a finger under her chin. “Let’s celebrate your virginity.”

  “How?”

  “One shot and just one kiss…” It would be enough. It would have to be because Matt was never getting married again.

  After the way he’d been burned in his marriage, that was the last thing he would do. He’d been devoted to his wife and blind to her adultery for the entirety of their marriage. It was only when he came home and caught the two in bed together that he realized he was a fool, that pain and shame came from loving that hard.

  Besides, he and Brooke weren’t even dating.

  And what if it wasn’t enough?

  Chapter Two

  When Brooke woke up, it took her a minute to realize she was in a hotel room. Her mouth was dry and gross and her head felt like someone hammered away at her skull. She looked down at herself, wearing nothing but a hotel bathrobe. Something felt funny on her hand.