Taming Tall, Dark Brandon

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  A forever with Andrea?

  A house that would be transformed into a home? A baby created from the exquisite lovemaking they would share in the darkness of night?

  Was that what he wanted?

  Was he in love with Andrea Cunningham?

  An eerie fog seemed to descend around Brandon, causing a chill to course through him. He blinked, trying desperately to see Andrea where she was held safely in his arms, but he was unable to find her in the denseness of the cloud surrounding him. She was slipping from his grasp, disappearing into the fog.

  Andrea was gone.

  And he was alone, totally alone.

  Vivid images paraded ruthlessly before his mental vision. He saw himself at the hotel registration desk, then in his empty apartment, searching desperately for something he couldn’t find, knowing he needed the elusive entity to be complete, whole, fulfilled.

  The scene repeated itself in stark, dark pictures. The desk, the apartment, the futile search. The emptiness. The loneliness. The pain.

  No!

  “Brandon?”

  Andrea’s whisper-soft voice calling his name caused the fog to dissipate. He was back at the Christmas party, could hear the music, the din of voices, could see and feel Andrea in his arms, thank God.

  Dots of sweat beaded his brow.

  He looked down at the woman in his embrace, who was gazing up at him with an expression that was a combination of confusion and concern.

  And he knew.

  At that moment, on the magical night of Christmas Eve, Brandon Hamilton knew he was falling deeply and irrevocably in love with Andrea Cunningham.

  “Brandon?” Andrea repeated. “Is something wrong? Are you all right?”

  “Am I all right?” he echoed. Hell, no, he wasn’t all right. He didn’t want any part of the emotional trip he was on. Somehow, he had to stop this ride and get off. But in the meantime, this was a party, so he’d fake it. “Yes, Andrea, I’m fine. I’m on top of the world.”

  He spun her around and she laughed in delight.

  “Are we trading in our titles of Cinderella and Prince Charming?” she said, smiling. “Are we to be Ginger and Fred now?”

  “No, ma’am,” Brandon said, managing to produce a small smile. “We are definitely still Prince Charming and Cinderella.”

  Andrea stumbled slightly and Brandon chuckled as he caught her, bringing her even closer to him.

  “Be careful there, Cinderella,” he said. “If I step on your toes, I might shatter your glass slippers.”

  “Heaven forbid,” she said, forcing a lightness to her voice that she definitely didn’t feel.

  Shattered. That was how she’d suddenly felt when Brandon said they were to remain in the roles of Cinderella and Prince Charming.

  Cinderella, whose night of magic and wonder had ended abruptly at midnight, flinging her back into the stark, lonely world of her reality. She had gone to the ball and danced in the arms of the handsome prince on stolen time.

  Message received, Brandon, Andrea thought. He was making it crystal clear that what they were sharing was temporary. It would all end when she left in one more week.

  Andrea took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  She was all right now, back in emotional control. Brandon wasn’t telling her anything that she didn’t already know. But she still intended to do whatever felt right at the moment when Brandon returned her to her door.

  Lord, Brandon thought. He’d nearly died on the spot when Andrea had taken the deep breath that had caused her breasts to crush more firmly against his chest.

  He’d had to stifle a groan of need that had threatened to erupt. He was going up in heated flames of desire for this woman in his arms.

  The woman he was falling in love with, despite his fierce determination not to.

  What an incredible thing, he thought. What a momentous event. He was honest-to-goodness falling in love for the first time in his life.

  If this was a perfect world, he’d be on cloud nine. He’d be the kind of man who had been searching for, and had now found, the woman of his dreams, his future wife and mother of his children.

  If this was a perfect world, they would have it all, together. A real home. Children. Hamilton House. Andrea’s own advertising firm in Prescott.

  And love.

  Love that would withstand the rigors of time, the ups and downs, the sunshine days as well as those that might be a tad cloudy. Forever love, until death parted them.

  What was that nonsensical thing the aunts had gone on about? Butterflies. Yes, that was it. Because they were in love with each other, he and Andrea would see the butterflies dancing.

  Yes, that was how it would be if this was a world of perfection.

  But it wasn’t.

  Andrea was dedicated to her career to the exclusion of everything, and everyone, else. Even if she was in love with him, as those who’d seen the picture in the newspaper believed, she’d probably walk away from that love, ignore it, return to Phoenix and never look back.

  And him? He wasn’t the I-love-you-so-marry-me-kind. He didn’t have enough hours in the day to devote to a wife and family. There wasn’t time to build snowmen on the square with his son, sit on the porch in blissful contentment with his wife and watch the stars blink in a summer sky, have the kind of marriage that his parents had enjoyed.

  He’d known the truth for many years, and tailored his social life accordingly. He moved in the fast lane, never stopping to smell the flowers, because that was how his life was structured—

  Brandon stumbled, then steadied, keeping Andrea nestled close to him as they continued to sway to the music.

  Dear Lord, he thought as beads of sweat dotted his brow. Everything suddenly became very clear to him. He’d been hiding.

  Aunt Charity had jumped on his case because he was still operating physically the way he had in New York. What was hitting him now, like a ton of bricks, was that he was doing the same thing on an emotional level, viewing Andrea, his feelings for her, what they could have together, through the eyes of a man who had buried his hopes and dreams because of the pressures of the big city.

  But he wasn’t in New York anymore.

  He was home.

  He was free to live, and free to dream, and free to love the woman of his heart.

  Andrea.

  “Andrea,” he said, not realizing he’d spoken aloud.

  She lifted her head slowly from where she cradled it on his chest and gazed up at him.

  “Yes?” she said softly.

  Free, Brandon’s mind echoed as he looked directly into Andrea’s dark eyes. Free to love. And he did. Oh, Lord, yes, he loved this woman. That wasn’t terrifying. It was wonderful, almost beyond belief.

  He wanted it all. A wife. A home. Children, whose joyous laughter would fill that home to overflowing. He wanted to see, with Andrea, the butterflies dancing.

  “Brandon?” Andrea said, looking at him questioningly.

  “What? Oh. Are you still having a nice time?”

  “My goodness, yes,” she said, smiling. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.” She paused. “You know, when I first arrived in Prescott and began to realize that everyone knows everyone else’s business, I thought it was rather...oh, stifling, a continuous invasion of privacy.”

  “And now?” Brandon said, hardly breathing.

  “I don’t feel that way anymore. The people here are like a big, warm and welcoming family. It disturbed me initially only because I’ve never experienced anything remotely close to a loving family. You’re very fortunate to live here, Brandon. Prescott is a very special, very rare, little town. I adore it.”

  Then stay! Brandon’s mind hollered. Marry me, and remain by my side until death parts us. Ah, Andrea, I love you so much.

  Whoa, Hamilton, he ordered himself. Slow down. He’d gotten part of the answers to his multitude of questions, but there was a muddled mess remaining in his brain.

  Did Andrea truly love
him? Would she consider giving up her career in Phoenix? Could she even envision a permanent future with him?

  Maybe not, because she didn’t have a clue as to how he truly felt about her. He wanted to tell her now, right now, that he would love her until he took his last breath.

  He wanted to shout for everyone in that room to pay attention as he told them that he was in love with Andrea.

  But, no, he mustn’t do that. He was treading on fragile ground, had to move carefully, so as not to frighten Andrea away.

  When they were alone later that night, he’d look directly into Andrea’s big, beautiful eyes and tell her that he loved her. Then he would ask her to marry him, to be his life’s partner.

  Everyone, except dense him, was convinced that Andrea loved him after seeing the picture in the paper. He was counting on their being right, hanging on to that belief like a lifeline.

  In the meantime, he’d given Andrea a hint as to the depths of his feelings for her. He’d made it clear that they were, indeed, Cinderella and Prince Charming, who had found happiness together for all time.

  Had Andrea picked up on the reference to Cinderella and the Prince? Brandon wondered. Well, sure she had. She was a sharp, intelligent woman. She knew that Cindy and the Prince had overcome the obstacles in their path and made a commitment to forever. Andrea probably wouldn’t be all that surprised when he declared his love and proposed to her later that night.

  “Well, good,” Brandon said. “I’m very pleased that you like Prescott, because I think it’s close to perfect. In fact, life itself is as close to perfection as it can possibly get.”

  “It is?”

  “Yep,” he said, nodding. “Know why?”

  “No.”

  “Because, my sweet Andrea,” Brandon said, smiling. “Santa Claus is coming tonight.”

  Andrea laughed, Brandon tightened his hold on her, and they danced on and on.

  During the next hour Ben stepped up and demanded a chance to dance with Andrea. She also danced with the head chef and with Mickey, while Brandon was partnered with the aunts, then Jennifer.

  At eleven o’clock, Prudence and Charity bid everyone good-night. Aunt Pru repeated an earlier invitation to Andrea to join her and Aunt Charity for Christmas breakfast in their apartment the next morning.

  Ten minutes later Jennifer headed for home, followed by Ben ten minutes after that. Others were leaving the party, as well, calling out a cheerful “Merry Christmas,” instead of goodbyes.

  Andrea and Brandon remained at the table, Brandon smiling and waving as the people left the room.

  “Well,” he said, nodding, “I’m pleased with how things went. I think everyone had a good time.”

  “I’m sure they did,” Andrea said. “It was a marvelous party. Do you have to stay to close up the room?”

  “No. Harry, the head of maintenance, volunteered for that job.”

  Andrea glanced at the clock on the wall.

  Fifteen minutes until midnight, she thought. She was still Cinderella. That was who she wished to be when she reached the fifth floor with Brandon. He wanted her in that role, too. No-strings-attached Cinderella.

  “I’d like to leave now, Brandon, if you don’t mind,” she said. “Glass slippers are hard on toes.”

  “Are you saying that your feet hurt?” Brandon laughed. “That’s what you get for dancing every dance.”

  “It’s a small price to pay,” she said, rising. “I enjoyed every minute.”

  Brandon got to his feet, signaled to Harry and received a salute in return.

  “The band will play a couple more songs,” Brandon said as he and Andrea left the room, “and then that will be that. I’m chalking this event up as having been a success.” He paused. “Hey, it’s almost Christmas.”

  But it was still Christmas Eve, Andrea thought, and she was still Cinderella.

  As they rode up in the elevator, a sense of peacefulness touched her mind, her heart and soul.

  This was her night, stolen out of time, and she knew, with no trepidation or doubt, that she wanted to make love with Brandon Hamilton. Yes, it was right, so very, very right.

  No one would be hurt by taking this momentous step, she mused. Brandon had made his feelings very clear. She was here now, and the memories they made together would be theirs to keep if they chose to do so.

  When she left Prescott, she’d never see Brandon again, but this night, this Christmas Eve night, was theirs.

  They stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor and walked down the hallway.

  I love you, Andrea, Brandon’s mind hammered. I want you to be my wife, my partner in life, the mother of my children. Stay by my side, sweet Andrea, forever. We’ll have a happy ending to our story, just like Cinderella and the Prince.

  Tell her, Hamilton. Tell Andrea that you’re in love with her, and that you wish to make love with her. Damn it, tell her.

  Brandon slowed as they approached Andrea’s door, swallowing heavily as he prepared himself to deliver the most important speech he’d ever make in his life.

  He blinked in confusion as Andrea passed her room and continued down the corridor. He hurried to catch up with her. She finally halted in front of the door to his apartment, then turned to face him.

  She was suddenly so nervous her knees were trembling. She’d never done anything like this before, never been so aggressive and... wanton? Naughty?

  No, she refused to admonish herself for what she was about to do. This decision was right. She would have no regrets-none-in the light of Christmas Day.

  “Brandon,” she said, looking directly into his dark eyes. “It’s not yet midnight. I’m still Cinderella and you’re Prince Charming, and I understand completely what that means.”

  “You do?” he said, his heart beginning to beat wildly. Andrea had understood what he’d meant when he’d told her they were to remain being Cindy and the Prince. Andrea Cunningham was actually in love with him, just as he was in love with her. “Ah, Andrea, I...”

  “Shh,” she said, placing one fingertip softly against his lips. “There’s no misunderstanding between us, so no one can get hurt.” She took a wobbly breath. “Brandon, I want to make love with you, I truly do.”

  Desire exploded within Brandon with such force, such heat, that he had to close his eyes for a moment to regain control of his body.

  “And I want you,” he said, his voice raspy.

  He managed to retrieve his key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock on the second attempt, then pushed the door open. A small lamp cast a golden glow over the living room.

  Andrea entered, her gaze sweeping over the attractive room that had been decorated in a combination of antiques and more modern, large pieces of furniture befitting a man of Brandon’s size.

  Brandon closed the door, shoved the key into his pocket, flipped the lock shut, then stepped in front of Andrea. She took a step backward, thudding against the door. Brandon braced his hands on the door on either side of her head and looked into her eyes, his own eyes smoldering with passion.

  “You’re sure?” he said. You really love me?

  “I’m positive,” she whispered. I want to make love with you.

  Brandon leaned closer, his body only mere inches away from Andrea’s, and he brushed his lips over hers. A shiver coursed through Andrea as she kept her arms straight at her sides.

  Brandon outlined her lips with the tip of his tongue. Andrea curled her fingers into the satin material of her dress.

  He trailed a ribbon of tantalizing kisses along her slender throat. She heard the echo of her own racing heartbeat in her ears.

  “Brandon,” she whispered.

  “Tell me,” he said hoarsely. Tell me you love me.

  “I want you.”

  “I...” Brandon started, then stopped.

  No, he thought, he’d wait to say the words, to declare his love, just as Andrea was. Those commitments to forever mustn’t get caught up in the heat of the moment, in the raging desire con
suming them.

  He kissed her, deeply, his tongue parting her lips and delving into the sweet darkness of her mouth to find her tongue, stroking it in a sensuous rhythm.

  Andrea’s arms floated upward to encircle Brandon’s neck as she moved away from the door to nestle against his aroused body. He held her close, then closer yet, his hands skimming over the feminine slope of her hips to urge her nearer.

  Brandon lifted his head to take a sharp breath, then slanted his mouth in the opposite direction, capturing Andrea’s lips once more. She clung to his shoulders as her trembling legs threatened to refuse to support her.

  They were on fire. The flames of desire licked throughout them, heightening passions to a fever pitch like nothing they’d experienced before.

  Brandon broke the kiss, his breathing rough.

  “Andrea.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, then shivered with need.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Brandon swung her up into his arms and carried her across the living room to the bedroom beyond. He set her on her feet next to the king-size bed, the lamp in the living room creating a soft, rosy hue in the room.

  Brandon cradled Andrea’s face in his hands and kissed her gently, so reverently, that unexpected tears prickled at the backs of her eyes.

  He looked at her for a long, heart-stopping moment, then slipped the straps of her dress off of her shoulders. Andrea allowed the satin material to fall free, pooling at her feet to reveal a pale pink, strapless lace teddy that clung seductively to her dewy skin.

  “Exquisite,” Brandon said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

  He began to shed his cumbersome tuxedo with visibly trembling hands. Andrea skimmed the teddy down, then stepped free of the jumble of clothes. Brandon flung his garments away, not caring where they landed.

  Then they stopped, standing still a foot apart, naked before each other. Eyes roamed, savoring all that they saw.

  “You’re the most magnificent man I’ve ever seen,” Andrea said, meeting Brandon’s heated gaze again.

  “And you’re the most beautiful woman,” he said.

  He went to the bed, swept back the blankets, then turned to Andrea, lifting her into his arms. He settled her in the center of the blue sheets and followed her down, stretching out next to her before catching his weight on one forearm.