Besotted

by Madison Michael

  “We’ll go to Chicago for that golf outing and …”

  “Ooh, Brandon. Do you think we could wait until then to tell my family? It would be wonderful to share the news with them in person.”

  “I hadn’t planned to wait that long.”

  “It’s a week. I think we can wait one more week, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Regan, whatever you like,” he responded, kissing her knuckle above the sparkly ring. “After all, what can happen in a week?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Regan

  It was a perfect day for a golf outing and attendance, and revenue, exceeded everyone's hopes. The Howe Art Museum Young Adult Board of Directors had been a brilliant idea for attracting a younger donor group. Twenty-somethings crowded the course, most of whom had never donated to the museum before.

  “I have to hand it to you, Missy,” her husband Stephen said as he stepped in to drive one of the last of over 90 golf carts heading out for the day. “This is a much bigger success than I would have figured.”

  “What can I say?” Missy replied, turning pink at the compliment, “I just figured if we created a board of young people they would attract other young people.”

  "A lot of them have parents who are donors, but it looks like both age groups opened their wallets. So this is all net gain. Nice work."

  Stephen planted a long hard kiss on his wife’s lips causing her to look around to make sure no one noticed. Her embarrassment just caused him to do it again, until Regan, who was standing nearby told them to “get a room.”

  “Just who made these pairings?” she asked again for the third time that morning. “Who thought to pair Tyler with Brandon?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, Ree,” Stephen told his sister-in-law. “We weren’t thinking about the connection at the time. We just thought he would be a good business contact for LHRE.”

  “And he will be. You’re right. Forget I even asked.”

  Almost as if their conversation had conjured them up, Wyatt and Keeli stepped out of the clubhouse in front of Brandon, Tyler and two other men.

  "You're with us,” Tyler told one of them as the other moved to join Missy and Stephen. Wyatt walked along with him, kissed his wife goodbye and hopped in the empty golf cart.

  “That leaves us,” Tyler announced to Brandon, Regan and the other gentleman, Nathan, the CFO of a new construction company that LHRE was hoping to do business with in the future. I guess they really were only thinking about business connections.

  Tyler looked entirely at home in his golf clothes, long legs looking fit and tan, white golf shirt open at the throat. Regan checked him out from head to toe, visualizing every inch of skin underneath his attire earning a bewildered scowl from Brandon.

  "Nice to see you again," Tyler said, grabbing Brandon's hand in a firm shake. "You have been a busy man. I have seen your new ads on TV. Not wasting any time, are you?"

  "Name recognition can only help. I've heard a lot about your work, too. Thanks again for taking over at LHRE. I needed Regan with me in DC."

  Needed? It was strange phrasing, in Tyler’s opinion, and certainly not the word he would have chosen.

  Relieved that the awkward introduction was over, Regan took her first full breath of the morning. The hostility was evident, palpable, but both men were behaving like gentlemen. It would be fine.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Nathan called to them now, causing the small group to split between the two carts. Brandon went with Regan, of course, wrapping a firm grip on her elbow and steering her to the passenger side of his vehicle before stepping behind the wheel and taking off.

  At the first tee, there was still a small line of people waiting to drive their first ball of the tournament. Tyler and Wyatt stepped off to the side, away from the golfers and spectators, Wyatt's arm around Tyler's shoulder. They were very chummy, too chummy for Regan's peace of mind. Wyatt knew what Tyler had done. She was his sister, for god's sake. Why wasn't he tougher on Tyler? And what were they talking about anyway?

  When they returned to take their place in the line both men looked grave and thoughtful, like co-conspirators. Regan was about to wander up – looking casual and disinterested, of course – to ask what they were discussing.

  "You're up, Regan," Brandon called to her, interrupting her plans. "Come hit a hole in one, Honey."

  Honey? He never called Regan "honey." He knew she hated when men marked their territory, yet here he was doing it. The didn’t bode well for the afternoon.

  Her thoughts on anything but golf, Regan sliced her ball deep into a patch of woods far down the fairway.

  “Tough luck, Ree,” her brother sympathized as he took his place at the men’s tee. Of course, he hit a perfect drive, dead center and very long, gaining the applause from the crowd and the adoration of a few teenage girls. Wyatt had that effect on girls – women, too.

  Regan realized she had not even seen Brandon's drive, but of course, he was proud to inform her that it was far beyond hers, near Wyatt's. "Your brother is good, Regan, but I think my ball may be closer to the green than his. We'll make up for your shot, don't worry."

  She was worried, but not about the game. She didn’t know what to do with all her nervous energy. Golf was not a sport where she could take extra swings to release her anger, so it just simmered below the surface.

  “How dare Wyatt betray me like that?” she mumbled.

  “What’d you say, Regan?” Brandon asked, momentarily taking his eyes off the course and swerving slightly.

  “Huh, oh. I thought I was talking to myself. That was such a bad shot.”

  "Let it go. You'll be back on the green in no time. You need to concentrate." Brandon proceeded to give her tips on her swing as the golf cart moved down the path, all of which she tuned out.

  "Thanks, Bran, I've got it from here." Regan almost leaped from the cart before it stopped, stepping into the woods in search of her errant ball. She quickly found it, under Tyler's foot.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she hissed at him as she looked around. No one was nearby to hear or see them.

  “Regan, I had to talk to you. You need to trust me again and for just a little longer. I swear I am going to fix this thing and then I am coming for you. Brandon better be long gone by then. You once told me you’d end it with him to be with me.”

  “Well, you once told me you’d love me forever,” she retorted, then covered her mouth, wishing she could get the words back. She had revealed too much.

  “I meant it. I do. I will. I swear. Just trust me, please.”

  “I ca-can’t, Ty. I just can’t anymore. You have done this to me one too many times. I’m marrying Brandon. We’re engaged.”

  “You’re engaged? When the hell did this happen?”

  “Last week.”

  "You need to break it off, Ree. You need to wait for me. I promise you I will be there for you. I swear. I need you, Ree. I love you. I always have. Give me a chance to…"

  “Regan, did you find it?” Brandon asked. They could hear him approaching through the thicket. Tyler moved away quickly, but not before giving Regan a beseeching look.

  "Who was that?" Brandon asked, watching a broad set of shoulders retreat through the woods.

  “My brother. He couldn’t resist teasing me about my slice.”

  My, my, that lie just slipped right off my tongue. What are you doing?

  “Sorry I missed him. I have wanted to have a chat with him. Oh well, take your shot and let’s get you back on the fairway,” Brandon said, offering to help guide her swing.

  Passing on the offer, Regan swung at the ball with all her might, finally finding an outlet for her frustration, and needing it more than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Regan

  “It’s gorgeous,” Keeli gushed. “It’s so beautiful that I can almost forgive him for not buying it from me.”

  “Sorry about that. It’s an heirloom, reset at Tiffany’s.”
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  "Yes, of course," she replied, retaking Regan's finger and studying the ring more closely. "I would guess it is about nine carats and the color is superb. It's a wonderful ring. He has good taste."

  “You don’t think it’s a bit too much?” Regan asked in a low voice. “I always pictured something simpler.”

  "What could be simpler than a huge diamond solitaire," her sister asked approaching to stare at the diamond ring, "a US Senator and what will be the wedding of the year?"

  “It is huge, Missy, isn’t it?” Regan asked, ignoring her comments about the wedding.

  “Ostentatious is the word I think you’re looking for,” Missy said as the three women laughed together.

  “When will you get married? Where will you get married? Here right, not DC?”

  “Oh Keeli, I have no idea. I guess I need to start thinking about all those things. Brandon would like a winter wedding, sooner rather than later, but I would prefer waiting until next spring at least.”

  “Let’s head into dinner everyone,” Julia Howe called to her family. “I don’t want anything getting cold.”

  As the family moved toward the dining room, Brandon detained Wyatt near the family room door. "I've wanted to talk about funding for my next campaign," Regan heard him saying. She slowed down just outside the double door and leaned against the wall.

  “Your campaign?” Wyatt asked. “What about it?”

  “Well, I want to get a leg up on my rival as soon as possible, curb any primary challenges and head for a win with plenty of money in the coffers.”

  “You have family funds, and a good fundraising team, right?”

  "That's true, I do. My staff will run the grassroots campaign, of course."

  “Of course,” Wyatt agreed as if he had expertise in politics.

  "But I was thinking about hooking the big fish, those donors that will put me on the map. I have ambitions, you know. I wouldn't mind a run at the White House someday. With Regan beside me, and your family money and network behind me, there is no reason I couldn't make that happen."

  Wyatt just nodded his head, and Regan could see that Brandon had his complete attention. "I have the Hockney name in my favor. I'm young and rapidly building a reputation as a leader, getting on the critical committees. In a few years, I should have a straight shot.”

  Regan was riveted to her spot, hearing for the first time about Brandon’s goals and ambitions. “Regan is a key component to my continued progress. Good family, smart, pretty but not too threatening to the women voters – don’t get me wrong, I actually do love her – she is perfect for a first lady. And of course, her name opens doors.” Regan was kicking herself for trusting this man. When would she learn to go with her gut? But the idiot was saying more. When would he stop bragging about himself? What on earth did I think I saw in him?

  "Now that we will be family, Wyatt, I thought we could discuss infusing my campaign with a healthy dose of Howe money. You could have an important appointment in exchange. A role in the administration down the line. And if people know you are backing me, or if you make a few strategic introductions, we will be swimming in campaign contributions. There is more than enough money, Ivy. Come on, you know it." Brandon was speaking casually, but Regan could hear the desperation in his undertones.

  “This is neither the time nor place,” Wyatt responded, ice in his voice.

  “No. No. No, of course not. It’s time for family dinner. I just wanted to plant the seed, get the ball rolling. We can talk later,” Brandon said, slapping her brother on the back before walking into the dining room. He never noticed Regan pressed against the wall behind him.

  Fury simmered in her veins. What a fool she had been. Brandon had been using her all along. "Don't get me wrong, I actually do love her." Was she some pathetic dog to whom he was throwing a bone? She suspected Wyatt's anger would rival her own. As he came around the corner, she stepped away from her hiding place. The look on his face confirmed her suspicion. Wyatt was livid. He looked like he wanted to kill someone.

  “Don’t rush into anything, Ree,” he commanded. “Don’t marry this arrogant, ambitious, money-grubber.”

  "Brandon's rich, Wyatt. I don't know why he's asking you for money."

  "Who cares why? He is, and in the vilest way, as if we owe it to him for taking you off our hands. He sees you as an advantageous pawn in his game."

  “I’m nobody’s pawn, I promise you,” she assured him.

  “You better not be. Wait for Tyler to fix things.”

  “You just told me not to be someone’s pawn. I have waited for Tyler my whole life. For what? I can’t trust him either. What’s different now?”

  “Everything. You can trust me, Ree. Everything is different.”

  “Trust me. That is all men ever tell me. Trust me while I stab you in the back, trust me while I walk out on you with no explanation, trust me while I steal the job you want…”

  “Hey, that’s not fair.”

  “No,” she agreed sheepishly, “that wasn’t fair. But it’s all I ever hear. Marry me, wait for me. Trust me. I am all out of trust.”

  "I'm your brother, Regan Howe, not some random man. I am telling you to trust Tyler and delay this engagement as long as you can. Better yet, give him back that rock now and say sayonara."

  "C'mon you two," Ethan called from the dining room doorway. "Mom is waiting for dinner on you." The siblings flashed each other a guilty look, exchanged a swift hug and moved quickly to the dining room.

  “I mean it, Ree,” her brother said just before they entered the room, ”Tyler is going to fix this.”

  "Sorry," Regan mumbled as she slid into her seat beside Brandon at the table. Her mother immediately signaled, and the family quickly loaded their plates with the feast hot off the grill.

  The burgers and hot dogs seemed incongruous against the pristine tablecloth and sterling silver serving pieces. Ketchup and mustard had been removed from containers and placed in lovely glass bowls, but the barbeque was a barbeque nonetheless. Missy’s children were biting into one end of their hotdogs and dripping ketchup from the other. Ethan was running his teeth down an ear of corn like a beaver, but somehow talking at the same time.

  “So does this mean you are done with LHRE for good?” he asked Regan. “How soon can I be in charge?”

  "Don't talk with your mouth full," his mother scolded.

  “And don’t rush me out the door,” Regan added. “Do you think you’re ready to take over?”

  “Well…”

  “Exactly,” Regan responded.

  "He needs to assume control at some point, Regan. After all, we'll be married soon. He won't have you to lean on then," Brandon told the room at large. "We announce the engagement later this week, and if you can get everything organized, Julia, I’d like a winter wedding.”

  "Brandon," Regan cut her mother off before she could respond, "My mother and I both think a spring wedding would be nicer."

  “Yes, spring,” her mother concurred barely masking the confusion in her voice. “And I need the extra planning time, Brandon. You men don’t always understand that.” She looked over at her daughter who offered a subtle nod and smile.

  "Yes, it takes months and months to plan a wedding," Julia latched onto her role as the mother of the bride, playing it for all she was worth. "Especially a big important wedding like this. At least a year or more."

  “You know, Bran, now that I think about it,” Regan picked up again, beaming down the table at her mother, “if we are waiting until spring, I think we should hold off on the announcement. This time of year it could get lost in the August recess. I think you want it to go out when the Senate is in session, don’t you?”

  “Good thinking, Regan,” Wyatt continued. “The Howe-Hockney merger – I mean wedding – is big news. You want that to hit the press when you’re in session. Right, Brandon?”

  "Absolutely," Brandon agreed, completely missing the sarcasm in Wyatt's tone or the way he had just been manipulated.
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  "It is rather like a merger, isn't it? My daughter is marrying a United States Senator," her father beamed with pride.

  “And a scion of New England society,” her mother added. “You will be like Jackie Kennedy, sweetheart. And just as pretty.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Regan blushed.

  “Let’s hope,” Brandon tossed in on a weak laugh, “I don’t end up like Jack.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Regan

  Everyone was tiptoeing around the office, afraid to attract the attention of either Tyler or Regan. It had been a while since both had been in the office on the same day and the entire staff had appreciated the reprieve. The tension today was palpable.

  "You have to face him sooner or later," Charlotte reminded Regan gently, being the lone sole willing to confront the CEO. "He's in the office next door. If nothing else, you'll have to pass by it to go to the ladies room."

  “I’ll hold it,” Regan responded stubbornly. “Why doesn’t he go to some meeting, or at least shut his damn door?”

  "Why don't you put on your big girl pants and stomp in there and remind him who's in charge here? It's still your company, Ree. You can fire him if you want."

  "Not anymore. Not without board approval," Regan shot back. "But they would approve it if I told them to." A sly grin bared her teeth, and she sat a bit taller.

  "That's better," Charlotte responded reassuringly. "He doesn't bite, Regan. You have been emailing for two months without altercation. You run a business together. Just stick to LHRE business, and you'll do fine." Without another word, Charlotte lifted her growing bulk from the chair, rubbed her lower back instinctively and moved toward the door.

  Regan felt ashamed. "How are you feeling Charlotte? What a self-absorbed friend and boss I am. I should have asked sooner. Please forgive me."

  "No problem. I am feeling huge since you asked. And nervous."