“Nervous?”
“The doctor says everything is fine but Alex is a wreck and he’s turning me into one too. I can’t wait for this little girl to be born so we can both get a good night’s sleep.”
“Not too much longer for the delivery but don’t count on a good night’s sleep for about 20 years,” Regan teased. “You’ll both do great.”
“You will too,” Charlotte responded gesturing with a hand toward Tyler’s office. “Just get it over with.”
The women left Regan's office together, but Regan stood nervously outside Tyler's door when Charlotte continued down the long corridor to her office.
"He's free if you want to go in," Donna offered from behind her. Although Donna was Regan's assistant, Regan knew she watched every move Tyler made. How would Donna handle it when Regan was gone, and the assistant worked for Tyler full-time? Donna would have to find a way to manage her personal feelings. Regan pushed the thought away; she had enough problems without taking on Donna's.
“Thanks, Donna,” Regan responded, rapping lighting on the frame of Tyler’s office door with her knuckles before proceeding into the room without hesitation, covering her trepidation.
“Hey there,” she began as she slid gracefully into a chair across from him.
"Hey there, yourself," he responded. "Welcome back." His eyes rested first on her face, then went straight for her ring finger. Tyler frowned, then schooled his features.
"I thought we might catch up on things," Regan offered, feeling her heart ready to beat out of her chest. Tyler looked breathtakingly handsome. He had tossed his suit jacket casually over the back of the sofa and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His forearms were tanned and strong. His hands rested calmly on the keyboard of his computer, but he must have been running them through his hair, which stuck up in front as if styled that way. "If I'm not disturbing you."
“What kind of things?” He was not going to make this easy, she realized, shifting in the chair, gripping the arms a bit too forcefully and trying again.
"Perhaps you can bring me up to speed on a few pending deals and the strategy you have laid out for downstate?"
Regan watched as Tyler's hands tensed. She was mesmerized watching the hands that had worked magic with her body. He moved to pick up a pen and began fidgeting before responding in a sarcastic tone that snapped Regan back to the present. "Happy to, boss. How long have you got?"
Regan pondered the question. How long did she have? Weeks? Months? How much longer was she supposed to wait? Shit, Tyler expected an answer. What was it they discussing?
Regan forced herself to concentrate on work, ignoring the questions racing through her brain. "I can meet for an hour right now. If you need more time, let's table this for later. I am here all week.”
“All week? Wow. How will your fancy senator survive that long without you?”
Now Tyler was just childish. "Tyler…." Her voice was stern, but she had no other words. What could she say that wouldn't either sound like scolding or begging?
Regan crossed and recrossed her legs frustration, then rose to pace the room. She stopped to gaze at the view and school her pounding heart.
Why were they talking about work when she craved answers about the two of them? She was dying to look Tyler in the eye and beg him to tell her the truth. Instead, she was pretending to be engaged to one man when she was in love with another.
“Yes, boss?”
His expression was closed, his voice derisive. Was the son of a bitch making fun of her or hiding his own confused emotions? Tyler was so good at hiding his feelings that even after all this time, Regan couldn't be sure. She just knew he was keeping her at arm's length.
Regan considered briefly considered challenging him, but when she turned back to face him, their eyes locked. She saw something there, pain or confusion, a signal to go easy on him.
Regan took the easy way out for them both by sticking to work. "I am trying to be civil here, trying to discuss business and get a few things done,” she announced, moving closer so she would tower over him as they spoke. It was a little thing, but all she had at the moment. His vulnerability left her shaken and unsure. If she just stayed in CEO mode…
“Would you please cooperate? And stop calling me 'boss.'"
"Of course, boss, let me just get the files." Tyler rose to his feet, their shoulders brushing – was that intentional? – then loped out to Donna's desk with that cowboy stride of his. The lingering scent of his cologne and his skin played at her nostrils, creating a familiar longing.
He returned too quickly, while Regan was still regaining her equilibrium. He stopped next to her, dropping the files on the desk In front of her. Leaning over her, Tyler opened the one on top of the pile. She had lost her brief height advantage, and he was too near.
“What are you doing? Are you playing games with me? You’re standing too close.”
"You didn't think this was too close two months ago," he reminded her in a low, growly voice. "You thought it wasn't close enough," Tyler bent his head to whisper in her ear. “If you’ll recall.”
Regan felt the heat of his body through their layers of clothes, the moist warmth of his breath on her neck. Her bodily responded instantly, swaying close for more before she resisted, pushing at him weakly. "That was then. That was a different Regan and Tyler. Things are different now."
“You were a temptress then, Ree, and you still are. You always have been." Tyler stepped back but only inches. "But you're engaged to that senator. I guess that makes you an off-limits temptress.”
"That's right," she replied in a clipped voice. "Off limits."
Tyler stood behind her. She could feel him there, but not see him. What was the infernal man doing? He wasn’t moving away, that was for sure. She inhaled his scent deep into her nostrils and leaned her head back until it brushed his shirtfront. That small touch was all it took. Their two months of separation disappeared; the heat rose between them without a word. Regan felt the dampness pool between her legs, holding her breath, waiting, always waiting for Tyler.
“You sure as hell didn’t behave like you were off-limits, Regan,” Tyler mumbled under his breath, leaning his head in closer until she felt his warm breath slid down her collar. "Not when you were wearing that dress.”
In an instant, Regan relived the feel of his hands on her skin, removing the Marchesa dress, fussing over the corset briefly before exposing her naked body. Was that two months ago? It felt like minutes as she sat still as a statue, listening to Tyler, sensing his body behind her. She felt his eyes boring into her and remembered the heat she had seen flare in their cocoa depths that night. Finally, she turned to look at Tyler. Regan could see that same heat now, his desire evident. She felt the passion pulsing through her body as he leaned closer.
"That's right, my temptress, I am yours. I need you to focus on this feeling and be patient a little longer," he whispered, his breath sweet on her flushed cheek. "Remember this moment; right now. Remember how good we are together."
Tyler's voice was hypnotic, his dark eyes holding her gaze until he shifted. His lips were resting lightly against the skin behind her ear, caressing there so that his breath traveled, sending sinful signals to her body as the moist warmth whispered along her spine.
"Tyler," came her hoarse response, asking, begging for more with just the sound of his name.
"That's right, Ree. You are mine. You were always mine. You will always be mine.” His handsome face came into view, his eyes locking on hers until she was certain he saw into her soul. His lips hovered millimeters from hers. She could already taste him as her mouth lifted slightly to meet his.
"Excuse me, Regan, there's a call for you." Donna's voice came from the door, quintessentially professional. When Regan met her eyes, she saw disillusion and hurt. Regan knew what Donna had seen confirmation that Tyler was not available to her. The poor girl was in love with Tyler. What a fatal mistake.
It was a mistake for Regan too. She pushed at Tyler’s
chest to give herself space. The man was a snake charmer. She walked to the windows, her back to him, catching her breath and hiding her embarrassment from her assistant and friend. Regan gave herself a mental scolding for getting herself into this situation, for hurting Donna and setting herself back two months.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of Tyler’s office, entering her own with a hard slam of her door. You are here to work, she reminded herself, and only to work.
Regan’s phone began ringing. Taking a deep breath, she answered the phone in a calm, professional voice that belied her agitation and frustration. "Hello? Yes, this is Regan Howe," she responded to the voice of the unknown stranger. "Yes, I'll hold."
Twitching her skirt into place, Regan sat tall in her executive chair and fidgeted with the pen resting on the desk. Regan's heart was hammering in her chest, even harder and louder than it had pumped only minutes earlier. She didn’t think that was possible.
“Regan,” came the voice of the Undersecretary of the Treasury. “How are you? I’ve been trying to reach you here in Washington. I thought you were living here already.”
“I am still commuting a bit, sir,” she explained, standing and pacing in her agitation.
"Well, no matter. You'll be here soon enough, and that's what matters. I wanted to call personally – although the official offer will follow. I know we interviewed you as an advisor to the Director of the CDFI, but I have just learned the Director is leaving. We would like to offer you his position. Would you be interested in running CDFI? It's a bigger, more consuming position, but I know you can handle it."
Regan dropped into her leather chair feeling it tilt back under her weight. She swiveled to look at the Chicago skyline. It was the moment Regan had longed for – and dreaded. Did she want to give up everything here? Give up her chance with Tyler? Regan would have to decide not only about the job but her personal life as well. It meant she would be starting over.
“Regan?” The Undersecretary’s voice interrupted her musings. “I am asking you to serve your country.”
"Yes, sir." Regan rose to her feet reflexively. "It would be my honor, sir." She stopped herself from saluting the empty office, feeling foolish for standing as if the man could see her. It just seemed like such a patriotic moment. She would be working for the US Government. The idea sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"Good, that's what I wanted to hear. We'll see you in DC by the end of the month."
The click of the phone broke the fog, leaving Regan stunned. She trembled with excitement. She had done it. She had the job. No, she had an even better position, a fantastic opportunity as top dog. Who should she call first, Missy or Tyler?
Tyler. He would be so proud of her. He was always so supportive of her accomplishments.
Tyler.
Regan dropped back into her chair as her legs gave out from beneath her. Tyler! Oh my god. What had she done?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Regan
Regan settled into her new position quickly, focusing on the work and avoiding the politics. Brandon, however, loved all the publicity, making the round of Sunday morning talk shows and finding a way to announce that he was half of the newest Washington power couple. She, not Brandon, was in demand for the shows, but each time she turned one down, he managed to find the spotlight instead.
"I wish you would stop talking about me on the talk shows," she begged him again, for at least the tenth time. "Talk about the work you are doing, Brandon, leave me out of it. The way you keep highlighting our relationship makes it sounds like I got the job only due to our involvement. And technically, we are not engaged. You know I asked for more time to think about it.
"CDFI and the undersecretary know that you earned the job, Regan. That is all that matters. I’m not trying to make you look weak. It’s good for both of us to be seen as a power couple.” Why did he make her feel like she was in the wrong every time she asked him to stop doing something?
“Still, I would prefer you refrain, and I have asked you politely.”
“I’ll cut back, Regan, but all publicity is good publicity, as the saying goes.” Regan shot him a withering look. “The talking heads are inviting me because of you,” Brandon continued undaunted. “You are the news, your job, your move to Washington, and our engagement. That is the personal interest story that people want to hear.
“But Brandon,” Regan blew her hair from her eyes with an exasperated sigh, “it’s a false narrative. You have to stop spreading these rumors. I know you are the consummate politician but try to slow down about us. For me. Please.”
They were sitting on the leather sofa in her townhouse, sipping wine. Brandon had come from another news show – damn those 24-hour feeds – although she had told him to go straight home, that it would be too late to visit. It was almost midnight, but he was showing no signs of leaving.
"I'll try," Brandon agreed. "I am doing it for us."
"Well, I’ve told you how I feel," Regan said. "It’s late, so I don't want to argue with you."
“Me either,” Brandon agreed, wiggling his eyebrows in a bad Groucho Marx imitation. “I can think of much better ways to spend our night.”
Regan avoided making eye contact. "Brandon, not tonight."
Brandon turned on her, pointing an accusing finger. "It's always, not tonight, Regan. I can't remember the last time you let me stay over. First, it was exhaustion from the move and the packing and unpacking. Then it was the new job and staying focused. What's your excuse this time?"
Regan resisted an exasperated sigh. They had been having this same argument repeatedly since her move. "Please don't get angry with me about this again, Brandon. I want some space. You need to give me some time to consider our future together, and the sex complicates things for me. Regan twisted a paper napkin between her fingers, dropped the shredded mess onto the coffee table and drank a deep swallow of Rombauer Chardonnay. "You are pushing me, and I don't like it," she finally confessed.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Brandon raised his voice to her, taking the glass from her hands and carefully placing it on the table. "Look at me, Regan. I don’t understand how we got to this place, but I don’t like it. We have been planning a life together. I am going to marry you within the year. We are going to move into a place of our own. You are going to run CDFI. I am going to get a spot at the convention or even on the ticket. Then, we are going to run the campaign of a lifetime. We are the couple to watch in DC right now. Our families are rich and powerful, our names are synonymous with rank and privilege, and we are gorgeous together."
"Another romantic proposal?" She was exhausted physically and with this conversation. It came out in her voice.
“Don’t get snide, Regan, it doesn’t become you.”
“I’m just tired, Brandon. Let’s table this discussion for the weekend.”
"But, honey, we have been tabling in it. " Regan cringed. Brandon rarely called her pet names, but she hated them all. "It's been too long, and I have all this adrenaline from doing the show. I could be hot tonight. Superman."
Regan wanted to laugh. She had experienced her personal Superman, but he wasn't Brandon. "Maybe, but I am sending you home tonight. I warned you that I was exhausted, remember? I told you to go straight home."
“I wanted to be with you,” Brandon told her bluntly. “I always want to be with you. You used to want to be with me, too.”
“I do, Brandon, just not tonight.”
Brandon cajoled a bit longer, but eventually, he gave up and moved toward the door. Regan followed trying to hide her visible relief. Since she had moved to Washington, she had avoided nights with Brandon, except for their attendance at public functions. Proximity was not helping their relationship. She couldn't erase her memories of Tyler's touch.
Brandon took her into his arms now, and Regan had to brace for his kiss. " I miss you, Regan. We don't have enough time together. I want to be able to hold you close." His touch was
gentle as he took her in his arms. Brandon's kiss was skillful, his tongue probing her lips, softening against her until she sighed and opened her mouth to him. His hands roamed her back, slipping under her silky blouse. She allowed him to cast a spell over her and leaned into the kiss.
Just because he wasn't Tyler didn't mean he wasn't pretty damn good. Regan was unfair to him. She had relinquished Tyler for Brandon and needed to put her money where her mouth was. In this case, on his mouth.
Regan sighed against Brandon’s lips and opened her mouth to his tongue. He accepted her invitation with alacrity, pushing her against the door, caging her with his body. He pressed himself against her from lips to thighs, leaving her in no doubt of his desire.
“C’mon baby,” Brandon whined. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll make it so good.”
Regan warred with herself but only momentarily. She hated when he called her baby, loathed when he made demands on her time when she asked him not to, and she cringed when he whined and persevered. She hated when Brandon ignored her wishes, so his current insistence left Regan cold. He may as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on her. "Give it up, Brandon. Go home."
Regan felt guilty for insisting that he leave. Still, after a quick apology, she shoved Brandon out the door. Why was she sorry? For asking him not to come over in the first place or for making him go? For not wanting him the way he wanted her? She wasn't certain.
Regan only knew she was relieved to be alone. She listened as his footsteps receded, turning out the lights and leaning against the door with a long, frustrated sigh. Regan was a smart woman. She made tough decisions every day and yet she could not let Brandon go nor could she commit.
She found her wineglass using the glow of the streetlamp outside and dropped exhausted onto the sofa wondering once again, how she got herself into this mess.
Washington was exciting, new and bustling with culture, events, parties. Regan loved her new job, although she missed her old life and her family. The work was challenging, she loved her team, and after only one month, it seemed as if she was making a real difference.
Besotted Page 15