Taming Tall, Dark Brandon

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Richard and Susie went down the hall to another room to hopefully find the perfect music from the available inventory.

  Andrea’s head was buzzing from fatigue, and she ached from head to toe as she pushed on.

  She was in the process, she thought dismally, of totally erasing all the renewed vim, vigor and energy she’d replenished while m Prescott.

  She was drained, both mentally and physically. This week of never-ending work hours, combined with the emotional upheaval regarding Brandon, had cost her dearly. She was so tired she could weep. She just wanted to put her head down on the table and wail.

  Just before eleven o’clock, the presentation had been mounted on fiberboard backing and placed on a wooden easel. The tape of the chosen music was in a player, waiting for the proper button to be pushed.

  They were ready.

  The entire team appeared pale with dark smudges of fatigue beneath their eyes. Even Susie’s everpresent smile was nowhere in evidence.

  “We did it,” Andrea said. “You’re wonderful, absolutely terrific, all of you.”

  “We’re wiped out is what we are,” Richard said, rotating his neck back and forth.

  “When Jack said he was taking that guy for a late dinner,” Mary Ann said, “he wasn’t kidding. Look at the time.”

  “The cat food man is being royally wined and dined,” Andrea said. “He’s a bachelor and obviously likes the party life. Jack has been taking him to fancy restaurants and nightclubs all week.”

  “Must be nice,” Richard said. “But I’d settle for one New Year’s Eve party.”

  “Well...” Andrea said, massaging her aching temples. ”It’s up to you. You certainly deserve to be here to help present this package, but if you’d prefer to go, it’s absolutely fine with me. There’s no reason for all of us to be bringing in the new year pitching an ad campaign for cat food.”

  “I’m gone,” Richard said. “Good luck, Andrea.”

  “Forget partying,” Susie said. “All I want to see is my comfy bed.”

  The others agreed that enough was enough. With wishes for success with the presentation and for having a happy New Year, the four made a hasty exit.

  Andrea stood in the empty, quiet room, weaving slightly on her feet as a wave of dizziness and nausea assaulted her. She glanced longingly at her chair at the head of the table, then dismissed the thought of sitting down in fear that she’d be unable to rise to her feet again.

  “Hurry up, Jack,” she muttered. “How much wining and dining can two men do in one evening?”

  Andrea began to roam around the large room, mentally rehearsing the presentation she would give.

  Somehow, she thought, she had to come across with bubbling enthusiasm, sound as though she was so excited about the crummy cat food that she could hardly contain herself. Her team deserved her very best performance.

  What did she deserve? she thought. Even more, what did she really want in her life, her future? She missed Brandon with an intensity that was staggering, overwhelming. She yearned to see his smile, hear his laughter, be the recipient of his magnificent kisses, engage in exquisite lovemaking with him.

  “Andrea, don’t. Not now,” she said aloud, still trekking around the room.

  It was foolish to dwell on Brandon when she needed every ounce of energy she could muster to concentrate on the presentation for the cat food.

  Cat food, she thought. How ridiculous. She was a physical and mental wreck. She was alone an hour before the beginning of a new year, all because of cat food? Did that make sense?

  Yes, yes, of course, it did. This was her chosen profession, the career she was dedicated to. It brought her monetary rewards. It gave her fulfillment.

  Didn’t it?

  “I’m very fulfilled,” she said, then frowned. “Aren’t I?”

  Oh, forget it, she thought in the next instant. She was too exhausted to think about fulfillment, or lack of same.

  Cat food. All she could handle dealing with at the moment was that damnable cat food.

  The sound of men’s voices reached her and she hurried to stand next to the easel.

  Smile, Andrea, she told herself. Look peppy and proud, excited and enthused to the max. Smile.

  Jack and a portly man in his late fifties entered the room.

  “There she is,” Jack said, beaming. “The best advertising executive in the west, second only to me. Where’s your team, Andrea?”

  “They did such a marvelous job,” she said, “that I sent them on their way. This is their work as much as mine, though. In fact, this fantastic presentation was Mary Ann’s idea.”

  “Yes, well, whatever,” Jack said, flipping one hand in the air. “Are you ready to present it to Bert, here?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said.

  “All right, little girl,” Bert said, sinking heavily onto a chair. “Show me what you have. I hope it’s better than the others. They were a great disappointment to me, you know. So?”

  So, eat a worm, little boy, Andrea thought, narrowing her eyes as she stared at Bert.

  “Andrea?” Jack said.

  “What? Oh. Yes. I’m very excited about this package,” she said. “It’s some of the finest work ever produced by my team.”

  “Get on with it,” Bert said, then yawned.

  Don’t murder him, Andrea told herself. The man isn’t worth going to jail for.

  “Fine,” she said. “Now, then...”

  Andrea gave a brief overview of the philosophy of the ad campaign, then turned and pressed the button on the tape player, producing music that was a lovely combination of quiet and upbeat.

  “The cats would be shown,” she went on, hearing the thread of exhaustion in her voice, “in subdued shades of color, surrounded by a soft golden, or perhaps pink, glow. The images would merge, blend, one into the next as the kittens play, romp, even snooze and—”

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” Bert said, throwing up his hands. “Snooze. You’re putting me to sleep, little girl. I can’t sell cat food to people who are no longer awake.”

  He got to his feet.

  “I’ve seen enough,” he said. “This is junk. Hellfire, shut off that damn funeral music.”

  Andrea pushed the stop button on the player with a shaking finger. A red haze of fury flashed before her mental vision, taking the place of the sudden tears that had filled her eyes.

  “I’ve been with the same advertising agency for thirty years,” Bert said, hiking up his pants over his bulging belly. “And I’m going to stay put. You people have offered me nothing remotely close to fresh and inspired ideas.”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m flying back to Chicago tomorrow and renew my contract with the outfit I know I can trust to produce something I can use. Lord, a slow-motion cat trying to smack a butterfly? Hell.”

  It was too much, it really was.

  Andrea was trembling with fury and fatigue. Everything seemed to come crashing down on her at once, nearly crushing her with the intensity of emotions tumbling one into the next.

  Along with the anger at Bert and her physical weariness was the heartache and confusion about Brandon, the chilling loneliness the image of him in her mind caused to course throughout her.

  And there, too, was the strange, menacing dark cloud of déjà vu, the sense of having somehow lived this scenario before.

  Andrea blinked, shook her head slightly, then a gasp escaped from her lips.

  The darkness in her mind’s eyes was suddenly lifted, revealing vivid scenes from her childhood in the foster homes. Painful memories slammed against her like punishing blows.

  She heard the voices of people fawning over her, saying how pretty and well-mannered she was.

  She heard them promise, promise, to start proceedings to adopt her, so they could take her home to be their cherished daughter.

  She heard the foster mother of the moment telling her that the people bad changed their minds, were not going to adopt her after all.

  O
ver and over it happened. Promises made. Promises broken. Hopes and dreams shattered time and again. Trust and belief in the future destroyed.

  So she’d learned—oh, yes, she’d learned—to bury her emotions deep within her, to leave them untouched, beyond her reach. She protected her heart, mind, her very soul, against the heartache of love.

  Promises made. Promises broken.

  Dear God, what had they done to her? What had she become?

  She became aware of Jack attempting to placate Bert, telling him that Andrea and her team would start over in the morning on a brand new advertising package to present to him.

  “No,” Andrea said. “No, we won’t.”

  “Yes, you will,” Jack said, looking at her intently.

  Andrea stumbled forward to grip the back of a chair to keep her legs from crumbling beneath her.

  “You never even considered switching ad agencies, did you, Bert?” she said, her voice quivering. “This has all been a sham, a way for you to escape the Chicago winter for a while and be wined and dined in warm, sunny Phoenix. Your coming here represented a promise to view our presentations with an open mind. That was a promise you never intended to keep. Isn’t that right, Bert? Isn’t it?”

  “Andrea, that will do,” Jack said sternly.

  “Let me tell you something, Mr. Cat Food Man,” Andrea went on, as though her boss hadn’t spoken. “You did me a tremendous favor. Your actions enabled me to discover something about myself that I didn’t even know.”

  Tears spilled onto Andrea’s pale cheeks.

  “And guess what, Bert?” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “The butterflies in that scene with the cat weren’t flying—they were dancing. How do I know that? Because I’m a woman who is in love with the most magnificent man in the world. In love. Only people in love can make the butterflies dance.”

  “Andrea,” Jack said, “you’re out of control.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m in control for the first time since I was a child. I’m in love, and I pray to the heavens that I’m not too late, that I haven’t lost the man who loves me in return.”

  “You haven’t lost him,” a deep voice said. “He’s right here.”

  Brandon strode into the room and Andrea stared at him with wide eyes, wondering frantically if she was imagining that he was actually there.

  “Who in the hell are you?” Jack said.

  Brandon went to Andrea, gripped her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.

  “Me?” Brandon said, his gaze riveted on Andrea. “I’m the man who loves this woman with every breath in my body. I’m the man, who along with Andrea, can see the butterflies dancing.”

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Bert said. “I’m leaving. Thanks for the freebies, Jack, you dumb patsy.”

  “What?” Jack said. “Is what Andrea said true? You never intended to consider changing agencies?”

  “Hell, no,” Bert said. “My outfit suits me just fine. I flew out here to party in the sunshine and let you pick up the tab. See ya.” Bert sketched a salute and left the room.

  “That lousy...” Jack started, then looked at Andrea. “Andrea, sweetheart, go home, get some rest, take tomorrow off. You can get cracking on a different account the next day.”

  “No, Jack,” she said, “because I quit If you want to sue me for breaking my contract, then go for it.”

  “But... Ah, hell, forget it,” Jack said. “Butterflies dancing? They deserve each other. They’re both crazy.” He stomped from the room.

  Brandon watched Jack leave, took a shuddering breath, then looked directly into Andrea’s eyes.

  “Andrea Cunningham,” he said, his voice not quite steady, “will you marry me? Be my wife? The mother of my children? Live with me in Prescott?”

  “Yes, oh, yes,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

  She threw her arms around Brandon’s neck and he encircled her slender body with his arms, pulling her close to him.

  “I’m so sorry, Brandon,” she said, sobbing. “I was terrified to love you, to trust in you and your love, in your promises. Forgive me, please, for hurting you. I’ll explain it all to you later, but please believe me when I say that I’ve laid my ghosts to rest at long last. The future is ours. Forever.”

  “Ah, Andrea,” Brandon said.

  She smiled at him through her tears. “I love you so much, Brandon Hamilton.”

  “And I love you, Andrea Cunningham,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

  The sound of car horns honking and bells ringing reached them.

  “It’s midnight,” Andrea said.

  Brandon cradled her face in his hands. “Happy New Year, my love.”

  “Happy forever years,” she whispered.

  Then Brandon lowered his head and captured Andrea’s mouth with a kiss that sealed that commitment as it chased the shadow of hurt and loneliness into oblivion.

  Brandon broke the kiss. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yes,” Andrea said. “I’ll come back tomorrow and collect my personal belongings from my office. We can spend the night at my apartment.” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’s all it is, just an apartment. What you and I will have together will be a home, a real home, overflowing with love.”

  Brandon slid one arm across Andrea’s shoulders and tucked her close to his side.

  “Wait,” she said.

  She went to the easel and removed the drawing of the cat and the butterflies. She rolled it into a tube and nodded.

  “I want to keep this,” she said, smiling.

  “We’ll frame it,” Brandon said, matching her smile. “Come on. We should be outside greeting the new year, saying hello to the first day of the rest of our lives together.”

  Several hours later, Andrea woke with a start, then gasped in dismay when she looked at the clock.

  Three-sixteen in the morning, she thought. She’d fallen asleep while Brandon had taken a shower. She’d intended to wait for him, eagerly anticipating the exquisite lovemaking they would share. But her exhaustion had won out and she’d fallen asleep!

  She turned her head, a soft smile forming on her lips as she saw Brandon sleeping peacefully next to her, visible in the glow from the night-light she kept in the bathroom.

  Oh, how she loved him, she thought. Their future together was spread out before them like a lush array of yet unopened Christmas presents. Did Brandon know, really know, how much she loved him?

  “Maybe I’d better show him,” she said aloud.

  Andrea eased onto her stomach and began to wiggle her way closer to Brandon, inch by inch. As she moved, she could feel the heat of desire begin to thrum low within her naked body.

  Brandon’s arm shot out and snagged Andrea around the waist, causing her to gasp in surprise. He scooped her up as though she weighed no more than a feather and settled her on top of him.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?” he said, smiling at her.

  “You scared the bejeebers out of me,” she said, matching his smile. “I was traveling over here to seduce you.”

  “Can’t be done.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yep,” he said, chuckling. “For you to seduce me would mean that I was resisting your womanly charms until you convinced me otherwise. I haven’t got a resisting bone in my body.”

  “How nice.”

  Andrea lowered her head and claimed Brandon’s mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue delving between his lips to seek and find his tongue.

  A groan rumbled in Brandon’s chest as he rolled over, catching his weight on his forearms. He deepened the kiss and Andrea’s lashes drifted down. She savored the feel of him, the taste, the heat of passion licking throughout her like burning flames.

  She felt so vibrantly alive, she thought dreamily. So young, carefree and happy. She was in love. And, oh, it was glorious.

  Brandon broke the kiss and shifted to one of Andrea’s breasts, laving it
with his tongue, then paying homage to the other.

  As Andrea’s hands roamed over Brandon’s broad back, she rejoiced in the strength of this man, the power, tempered with gentleness.

  They kissed and caressed, remembering, anticipating, as their desires soared. Brandon trailed nibbling little kisses across Andrea’s stomach, then down... down. She tossed her head restlessly on the pillow, whispering Brandon’s name, until she could bear no more.

  “Brandon, please,” she said, her voice a near sob.

  He moved up, then into her, meshing their bodies into one miraculous entity.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, lifting her hips to meet him.

  The rocking rhythm began, gaining force, thundering into a tempo that was wild and earthy, evidence of their want and need. Upward they flew, reaching for the exquisite release, together.

  “Brandon!”

  They were there, bursting into their private place in shattering ecstasy, hurled seconds apart into the kaleidoscope of brilliant colors.

  And...

  Butterflies.

  There was a multitude of beautiful butterflies and all of them, every single one, were dancing.

  They drifted back, sated, spent. Brandon sank heavily next to Andrea on the bed and wrapped one arm around her waist, his lips resting lightly on her temple. Their breathing quieted and heartbeats slowed.

  “Did you see them, Brandon?” Andrea said, awe and wonder ringing m her voice. “Did you see the butterflies dancing?”

  “Oh, yes, I saw them,” he said. “They were incredible.”

  “And ours.”

  Brandon sighed m contentment. “Forever.”

  Epilogue

  They were married in the church where Brandon’s parents had exchanged wedding vows decades before.

  An announcement was placed in the Prescott newspaper, stating that Mr. and Mrs. Brandon Hamilton were now husband and wife and were living in Hamilton House until they found the perfect home to purchase. A reception would be held in the spring, on the town square, so that everyone who wished to, could attend the celebration.