But containing was challenging. It was clear – painfully clear – that Tyler would have to let Regan go until he found a better solution, a way out. She was his angel, but he had fucked up. His hands were too dirty to touch her. Until he dug himself out of this mess, he would have to say goodbye.
He had been away from her for four months, and already he was going crazy. He had stayed loyal, despite all the college girls making their interest in him more than evident. Girls were throwing themselves at him in class, in the library, in the dorm.
When did girls get so damn aggressive?
“Come on, Tyler, “ Wyatt had prodded just days ago when they were sitting in the Cornell library. “You can’t expect to stay a monk for four years. Or did you get so much action in Europe this summer that you still need a rest ?”
"I promise you that I do not need a rest. Quite the opposite in fact
“Then get in the damn game. These girls are ripe and ready, and they want t us,” Wyatt pointed out unnecessarily. “Just pick one and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“And if I do that, which of us get’s the room tonight, huh?”
"Oh yeah, I hadn't thought about that. OK, you've stayed down the hall more than your fair share, you take the room, and I'll throw out Stu and Alan and take theirs. They can sleep in the lounge or something."
“Nice, Wyatt. You are such a thoughtful friend, but until I officially break up with Regan, you can have the room. All women are off limits.”
“She’ll never even know, you dolt.”
"I'll know, and if I know, one look at me, and she'll know too. Just go, damn it. Just go." Tyler turned his back, not waiting for Wyatt to leave, his frustration surfacing uncontrollably. He needed to hit something, and Wyatt was no punching bag.
Wyatt didn’t have to be told again, finally singling out a cute co-ed from his math class and making his move. He had been tutoring her in calculus for about a month, although no one believed she needed the assistance. All the men on the dorm floor knew she wanted Wyatt. She was anything but subtle.
Poor girl. Tyler considered warning her. She would be tossed over for the next one within a week. They all were.
So it had gone almost every Thursday, Friday and Saturday since the friends had arrived at Cornell. Tyler studied late and lamented his situation while Wyatt went through women like candy. Soon Wyatt would run out of the freshman, but that was no problem. The senior women were equally interested in Wyatt’s handsome face, his jock status and his millions.
Not Tyler. Instead, here he was, leaving Regan’s family home, driving away while adjusting the crotch of his trousers, driving too fast on the quiet, late night streets, wondering if a cold shower would even do the trick. She had looked stunning tonight, but Tyler should never have run his hands over her body. Not when he knew he had to break things off with her.
Tyler wriggled again in the small seat of his MGA, struggling with four months of pent-up sexual frustration. He loved the vintage car, but right now, he wished he had a nice big bench seat to move around in – not that he would find any comfort.
Was it only two hours ago that he had picked Regan up thinking that he could break this off graciously? “Regan, you need to understand,” He had whispered the words over Lou Malnati’s famous deep dish pizza. "I thought this would work, this long distance thing, but I was wrong. You need to date other guys and me…"
“You need to get laid. I get it, Tyler.” Regan threw down her pizza slice, her clipped words wounding Tyler just as she intended.
“That is not it,” he insisted. “It’s not about the sex. I swear, it is not about the sex. I am out there in the wider world, and it's helped me realize we need to be with other people.”
“So you’re breaking up with me after asking me to wait? Forever sure is short to you,” Regan sat shredding the napkin in her lap and allowing her tears to fall unchecked.
Tyler glanced around the restaurant furtively, wondering if everyone was watching him make this pretty girl cry. Thank god, no one was paying any attention.
“I just want to go home,” she begged quietly. “Please just take me home.”
"Ree, I think we should talk about this. We have been friends for a long time."
“Friends? Friends?” Her voice was rising as she leaned in and placed her balled fists on the table. "Is that what we have been, Tyler? We've been friends all these years? I get it. I misunderstood before, but now we are on the same page."
“Ree, that is not what I meant.” Tyler signaled for the check, desperate to leave the small restaurant as Regan became louder and more accusatory.
“No? What did you mean, Tyler? Did you mean you would love me forever or did you mean we were friends?”
"Regan…" he pleaded with the one word, throwing some crumpled bills on the table and steering her from the restaurant. He was messing up. "Things change. I'm doing a bad job explaining it, obviously, but they have just changed."
“They have changed for you, you mean?”
“Yes, things have certainly changed for me,” he whispered.
Regan dropped her fighting stance and leaned closer. “What did you say?”
Tyler inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo as she flipped her mane of hair over her shoulder. He recognized the defiant move. He longed to hold her and soothe her anger.
Moving closer, he placed a whisper of a kiss on her cheek. He intended to stop there, but Regan turned to face him, her tears shimmering under the streetlights, looking more beautiful than he could remember.
“What?” she asked, trying to understand the sudden change in Tyler’s expression.
“I can’t remember when you have been more beautiful,” he whispered in awe.
"Cut it out, Ty. You can't have things both ways. Either we are through, or we aren't."
Tyler knew if he touched her he was a dead man, but his mouth descended on hers, claiming her pouty lips with his own and kissing her thoroughly. He coaxed her lips to open with a sigh and slid his tongue in to explore her warmth. She tasted of oregano and honeyed sweetness. It was a heady combination.
She was his. She had always been his and nothing could change that. His hands slipped under the edge of her short jean jacket, sliding up to pull her closer. Her skin was warm and smooth like velvet. One hand slid down the waistband of her pants to cup her small behind. Hers followed suit, her fingers slipping under the front of his belt and pulling him closer. Tyler gasped as her fingers moved lower.
A car coming toward them on the dark street caught them in its headlights, and Regan quickly withdrew her hand, using it to push Tyler away. He pulled her out of the road and against the car, trying to resume where they had left off.
“Ty,” her voice quivered, “I don’t know what you want from me. Are we breaking up or not? Do you love me or don’t you?”
"I love…It is not about whether I love you, Ree. You are just better off without me. You are perfect, Ree, but you are young. You need to learn more about life, about people," His excuses sounded feeble, even to him, but he tried again to explain the unexplainable, repeating the same phrases as he pulled her back into his embrace.
"Then we should stop," she said, even as her mouth lifted to his, brushing his lips lightly with her own. He took the invitation she offered, kissing her again, hands sliding under her clothes to return to her silky skin. He leaned against her pressing her against the car, rubbing his growing erection against her, painfully aroused.
She allowed him to grind against her only until his hands began moving from her back to her front, and then she pushed him back. "We need to stop, Tyler. You need to stop."
Taking deep breaths to calm down, Tyler pulled back immediately, knowing she was right. He opened her car door still trying to get his breathing, and his erection, under control. She slid into the small car without looking at him and remained quiet during the fifteen-minute drive home. When he moved to get out of the car, she stilled him with a hand to his knee.
�
�So this is goodbye,” she said, a quiver in her voice.
“Not goodbye, Regan. I will see you around.” His voice cracked on the last word. He reached over the gear shift and pulled her close, She moved reluctantly into his arms and returned the friendly hug that was all he offered. She stepped from the car, closing the door behind her with a final click.
Regan moved two steps toward her front door but halted only feet from the car. She stood like a statue for ten seconds, turned, yanked the car door open and poked her head back into the dark interior.
Her voice was strong and sure when she spoke. “You won’t see me around, Tyler. Not if I can help it. Someday I will be a big shot executive, Tyler, a Harvard graduate. I have big plans, and from this moment forward, they do not include you. Go fuck your college girls and have a good time. I don't need you anymore. I won't miss you, and I won't think about you, but I promise you this. You are going to remember every kiss and every touch, and you are going to miss me."
Regan slammed the door, shaking the small car. Her words galvanized him. Tyler threw the car in reverse, spewing gravel and screeching tires in his need to be gone, and gone fast.
Throwing the car into drive, speeding down the long drive, Tyler went only a short distance before taking a deep breath, slowing and pulling over in front of the neighbor’s house. Tyler killed the engine and rested his head on the steering wheel. He had never heard Regan lose her temper like that and certainly never with it aimed at him. He had never, ever heard her swear.
Squirming again to get comfortable around the slowly diminishing bulge in his pants, Tyler was swamped with regrets. Why couldn't he spill his guts and tell her what was swirling in his head, in his life? She might have understood. She might have loved him anyway.
Memories of his father and his brother and their treatment of him these last few months swamped his emotions. They had turned their backs on him, so why wouldn't she? Why take the risk? He was better off letting her go. They were kids. They would forget each other by the end of the month.
Chapter Five
Regan – Present Day
He might be the second best kisser in the entire world.
Regan Howe sighed with pleasure as she leaned into the muscled chest encased in expensive wool, wrapping her arms around the broad shoulders, sinking her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck. She felt the heat emanating from his body as well as the warmth spreading through her own.
The kiss went on and on, his firm lips covering hers gently, coaxing a response from deep within her. Regan felt sensual all over, her blood heavy and thick, her breathing labored. She wanted the kiss to last forever; she wanted the kiss to end so they could do more.
“I should go,” Brandon admitted reluctantly, pulling back from the embrace. “I don’t want to encourage that pack of wolves outside to publish anything that could hurt you.”
Was he leaving? Regan reluctantly transitioned to the discussion of the journalists outside, sensing her blood cool. Feeling as if she had just been pulled from the flames and doused with a bucket of ice, Regan could not hide the petulance in her response. ”Or you. You are aware that the paparazzi are following you and not me.”
"It doesn't matter who their target is. If the papers get an ugly story, it just hurts both of us, right?" Brandon challenged her gently. "We need to get through these hearings, Regan. Until then, we can't mar our reputations or credibility. You understand, don't you?"
“Of course. You are right.” Regan ran a hand through her hair and turned away, annoyed with Brandon's constant concern with what people would think. She had lived with it for a year, should have been used to it, but it still irritated sometimes. Like tonight.
On the other hand, Regan reminded herself, she loved the way Brandon dropped the ‘r' when he said ‘mar.' He was so New England, from his clean-cut good looks to his accent. So he was cute, and she admitted reluctantly, he was correct. Still, she had to argue just a bit more. She was leaving tomorrow, and he knew it, but he was going home rather than staying the night? “It’s not like the whole world doesn’t know we are dating.”
“Getting caught dating is different than getting caught sleeping together, Regan, and you know it,” Brandon said with finality. She wouldn’t win this argument.
“Well, then I will say goodnight and thank you for another wonderful evening,” Regan sketched a small curtsey, moving back from Brandon’s warmth. The movement spoke volumes about her annoyance, although the behavior seemed lost on Brandon.
Feeling like a scolded child, a situation she was all too familiar with, Regan allowed a bit of chill to enter her tone. She sighed, chided herself for her churlish behavior, and replied more sweetly. "Sorry, of course, you are right. It was a lovely evening, but you’re right, we need to end it here. I will talk to you from Chicago?”
“So, you are leaving tomorrow after all?”
“Right after I testify. I have been here too long already, Brandon. I have a company to run, remember?”
“Yes, Madame CEO, I remember. I love that about you. You are all power and all woman wrapped up in one brilliant, beautiful package. What more could I want?”
"Flatterer," Regan replied with a blush, not taking the bait in his question. He had been implying that she was ‘his' way too much for her comfort. She gave Brandon a light shove toward the door avoiding another kiss. Now that she was sure he was leaving, she was ready for him to go. “Get out of here.”
Brandon stole a quick hard kiss and exited in a flash. Regan leaned back, listening to his receding footsteps and reliving that incredible kiss. Closing her eyes, she remembered how passion had flared between them.
Hearing the scurry of many feet along with a peppering of questions, Regan acknowledged that Brandon had been right about the paparazzi. They were following the senator down the street to his car. It was just as well that he had suggested going home.
Examining her feelings, Regan admitted she really hadn't wanted him to stay the night, despite the sparks that had been heating her blood just seconds earlier. A kiss, even that kiss, couldn’t remove the doubts in her mind. She needed space, time away from him to think.
Her lust completely cooled, Regan examined her relationship with Brandon. She reminded herself that she had been in this situation before, believing someone wanted her, loved her and getting it wrong. For more than a decade, the insecurities she had acquired in high school influenced her every relationship, worrying that even the slightest rejection was leading to a break-up.
Not this time.
At least she thought not. Although Brandon hadn't made an outright proposal this evening – it was too soon, and they both knew it – he had undoubtedly hinted broadly. No, this man wanted her and would stand by her, she was sure of it.
Senator Brandon Hockney was so attentive, so thoughtful, so sweet and sexy, and he knew how to treat a woman well. He had been funny and witty at dinner, regaling her with stories of government faux pas. Brandon never disclosed too much, never betrayed a confidence or even flirted with classified information, yet the senator appeared to be sharing intimate secrets, an insider's perspective. He was witty and brilliant, and his tales remained fresh, drawing her in as he intended.
Regan knew she was smart and successful, but being with the handsome man elevated those feelings while allowing her to be feminine too. He held her coat or her chair, but he also hung on her every word as if she spoke pearls of wisdom. He laughed at her bad jokes and attentively listened when she discussed her work.
"I have an idea or two," he offered when she described a difficult client situation. "I would be happy to share them, but only if you want my advice."
What other man waited to be sure she wanted his opinion?
"Of course, I want your ideas, Brandon. You are a pro at working with difficult people. You have the best reputation in Congress right now. Everyone admires your ability to reach across the aisle."
"Maybe not the best reputation, but I ran on a pledge to w
ork with the other side. I intend to keep my word. It's not that hard Regan. Just keep your eyes on the prize, the end game, Honey, and the compromises on the little things don't seem as difficult."
They discussed those little details for the next ten minutes. Soon, Regan was taking notes on her phone, excited that she had a plan to make her client happy again.
“You are a genius, Brandon.”
“And handsome? And sexy?” he fished unabashedly.
“Yes, handsome, sexy, smart and sensitive. You are the whole package. Is your ego mollified now?”
Even as she said the words, jokingly, Regan realized that Brandon was everything she wanted in a man. She had suspected it when she met him at Charlotte’s wedding. No one had swept her off her feet like that, but Regan left their encounter with little expectation of hearing from him again. When he proved her wrong, she didn’t know how to respond.
Regan remembered being intrigued, but scared. She was feeling things she hadn't felt for anyone, but…she shouldn't go there. Regan was considering a future with Brandon, not Tyler. Turning off the outside lights as she moved through the apartment, Regan reflected on her courtship with Brandon.
Brandon pursued her despite her lukewarm response to his overtures. He took no for an answer graciously, then returned for another attempt to win her heart. It became difficult to remain aloof when inundated with regular emails, gifts, flowers, cards, invitations and phone calls from this persistent man. She used the distance between them as her primary excuse, keeping Brandon at arm's length by reminding him that they were both busy people. She had no reason to travel to Washington, DC and he had no cause to be in Chicago.
“Well then, I need to remedy that, don’t I?” he had asked cryptically, but with his usual confidence.
Sure enough, shortly after that, the senior senator from Illinois contacted Regan, requesting – more like demanding – that she testify before the Congressional Banking Committee on recent banking changes and their impact on real estate sales in the Midwest. The official invitation to testify arrived soon after that and Regan had no choice but to accept.
Besotted Page 4