Awakened by the CEO's Kiss

by Therese Beharrie

  But, no—he had frozen. He had frozen because he’d wanted to say yes so quickly he’d been afraid of what it might tell her if he did. He also hadn’t expected it. He’d been so in his own mind, berating himself for not being honest with Tia, for wanting things he couldn’t have, for admitting all that to a woman he felt so complicatedly about, that her offer had come out of left field. By the time his mouth had caught up, she’d been out the house.

  The least he could do then was get her attire sorted so things were as easy for her as possible. Hopefully it would help so she wouldn’t regret her decision.

  Although he was fairly certain it was too late for that.

  The door opened before he could think on it for too long. And then he wasn’t thinking at all.

  ‘I think it might be a size too small,’ Brooke said, instead of greeting him.

  That was fine with him. Because the fact that she’d said it meant he could look at her without it seeming as if he was ogling.

  Though he absolutely was.

  The dress was sleeveless, revealing firm brown arms. One strap was thin, widening into gold material that clung to her breast in a teardrop shape, while the other strap was thicker, falling into loose fabric that covered the rest of her chest and then cinched in at the waist. From there, the dress flowed to the ground, sweeping over shoes that looked beautiful on her feet.

  ‘You look incredible.’ Quickly he realised she might not be comfortable with the dress. ‘I’m sorry. I should have checked with you.’

  ‘No, no, it’s okay.’

  Her fingers tightened around the clutch purse he’d bought. Gold as well, though simpler than the dress.

  ‘I was just worried that this area—’ she made a circle above her chest ‘—would be distracting.’ She changed the subject abruptly. ‘I didn’t realise this event would be so formal.’

  ‘It’s a cocktail party. Hence the suit and the dress.’

  ‘You...um...you look nice too.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘Do you feel uncomfortable?’

  She shifted. ‘Not about the dress.’ She winced. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I get it. I feel it, too. The only reason I got dressed and decided to go through with this is because you offered to come with me. I’m not... I’m still not sure I want to do this.’

  She reached out to take his hand. ‘You want to do this.’

  His throat felt odd for a moment, but he swallowed and the moment passed. ‘Thank you. Thank you for coming tonight.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  She dropped his hand, curved her fingers around her ear as though there was hair there. But she had sleeked her hair back, curled her edges in a fascinating pattern over her forehead. The rest of it fell in a long, straight ponytail down her back.

  It made her face stand out all the more, though he had no idea how that was possible. She already had the most striking features he’d encountered. But without any hair framing her face he could see the smoothness of her brown skin, the little dots on her cheeks, the full, plump lips, the dark, thick lashes. All of those features were more prominent because she’d put on make-up. Black encircled her eyes, a light pink touched her cheeks, a deep red coloured her lips.

  Her breasts weren’t the distraction he was worried about; she was. By simply being at his side. Of course it didn’t help that she looked like a goddess on a day designated to celebrate her greatness. He was willing to bet she’d distract everyone in the room tonight.

  That might not be such a bad thing. He might not feel as much pressure about being there if she did.

  ‘Is it strange that I’m nervous?’ she asked, stepping out of the house and locking up behind her. ‘I’m only the plus one.’

  You could never only be the plus one, he wanted to say. Thank heavens he stopped himself. ‘Maybe you’re feeding off my nerves,’ he said instead.

  He held out his hand, offering her support if she wanted it. Her eyes dropped, lingered, then she took it.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, to both of them.

  He swore he heard her voice shake, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He didn’t react at the contact as he helped her down the stairs to his car. But holding her hand felt as though he was holding something precious. He couldn’t drop it, no matter what.

  He opened the passenger door before going to the driver’s side and getting in himself.

  ‘What should I know?’ she asked as he drove down the short path from her house to her gate. ‘About this event?’

  He told her what he knew about the company and its possible areas of expansion. When that led to questions about his own work, he answered them. Explained how his mother hadn’t been able to study when she was younger because she hadn’t been given the opportunity to do so. And how when the opportunity had come—when her family life and financial position had finally aligned to allow it—his father left.

  ‘She was essentially a single parent,’ he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. ‘And her dreams got delayed even longer.’

  ‘Why did your father leave?’ Brooke asked softly.

  He hesitated. It wasn’t because the information was a secret, but because sharing it with her felt... It felt like crossing a line again. One of his own lines this time. One of those boundaries he’d told himself he had to keep when he’d started working for her.

  But then, almost as soon as he’d set them those lines had become blurred. He knew it simply because the distance he’d planned to treat her with had slowly but surely disappeared. He couldn’t be cool with her, despite their history. Despite the fact that that history was apparently more complicated than he’d originally thought.

  They were edging into new territory, and he had no idea how to handle it.

  In this case she saved him from deciding as she said, ‘Since your thinking is steaming up the car—which, as I say it, sounds like a dangerous way of phrasing it—I’ll change the subject.’ She pivoted, exactly as she said she would. ‘So, you’re basically saying that you started your company to provide online learning specifically geared towards people of an older generation, who have a lot on their plates, because you were thinking of your mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, both relieved and oddly disappointed. ‘I had been looking into different programmes for her to follow when I realised that with her schedule, she wouldn’t be able to fit much in. I thought I’d try to design something bespoke for her, and as I was doing that, I thought it might actually work for more people than her.’

  He took the turn-off for the highway, saw Table Mountain in the distance. If he didn’t take this opportunity—and he wouldn’t—at least he would still have this. His home. His memories.

  The beauty of Cape Town was so inextricably linked with those memories that he’d never give it up. He couldn’t. Not when Tia still needed him. Not when his mother wouldn’t have wanted him to. She had made so many sacrifices for them. For their happiness. To ensure that they still felt like a unit, a family, after his father left. She would be ashamed of him for even considering taking the same path as his father.

  ‘There you go, thinking again.’

  He exhaled. ‘I’m sorry. It—this—is harder than I thought it would be.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Thinking about what I want. Tia and I weren’t raised that way. We were raised to think about family. My father left and it was the three of us and... Well, we had to be there for one another.’

  ‘You can still be there for your family if you do this, Tyler,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re not disappearing off the ends of the earth. You’re taking an opportunity that will—what? Require you to spend some time in a different country? That’s not abandoning by any means.’

  ‘My father took an opportunity that required him to spend
some time in a different country,’ he said quietly. ‘A job in Dubai. He was doing okay here, but he wanted us to be more comfortable, he said. So he left.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘A two-year contract turned into a permanent situation. He started a brand-new life without us and we had to accept it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, the words heavy despite her soft tone.

  Silence followed, and he realised he was supposed to fill it. He shrugged. ‘Now you know why this isn’t simple.’

  ‘Yeah.’ There was a long pause again. ‘I get it. I mean, I know how hard it is to move forward when something in your past keeps pulling you back.’ She gave a light snort. ‘Even saying it that way sounds bad. Like my dead husband is a hindrance of some kind.’ She exhaled. ‘Sorry. That was morbid.’

  ‘No,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘It was honest.’

  She nodded, looking out of the window. ‘Anyway, my point is that I do get it. I feel the guilt and the betrayal and the resentment, too. It sounds like yours is directed at your father, which is fair. Mine... Mine is directed at me. Because how can I be angry at someone for dying?’

  She shook her head. Opened her mouth. Before she could utter the apology he was sure she intended, he squeezed her hand.

  ‘Don’t,’ he told her. ‘Don’t feel bad for sharing. That’s how you feel and it’s honest. There’s no shame in that.’

  ‘I... Thank you.’

  He nodded. Let the silence linger until he pulled into a parking space and said, ‘I guess I’ll be doing this for both of us. Taking a small step forward.’

  She blinked, but her lips slowly curved into a smile. ‘I like that. I like that very much.’

  * * *

  Brooke walked out of the elevator slowly, appropriately impressed by what she saw.

  There was the mountain, of course. The layout had been angled so that most of the room faced it, but she was more enamoured by the view of the city.

  It was busy, as to be expected on a Friday night. The sound of traffic fluttered up, occasionally interrupted by the sound of human beings living: laughing and talking and an infrequent shriek. It reminded her of that night at the beach, multiplied by a thousand.

  Because that was what the centre of Cape Town was. The sound of life times a thousand. That was what she loved about it.

  The venue was beautiful. The rooftop was lit with classy light bulbs, strung across the space as though they were stars. She looked to see how they were being held up, but the poles weren’t obvious. The bar was on one side, and a dessert station was next to it, but apparently the main course would be plated.

  ‘It’s an odd decision to have dessert there,’ she said, tilting her head as she stared at a chocolate fountain. ‘What about people who have no self-control? Or who prefer to have dessert before dinner?’

  ‘Where do you fall?’ Tyler asked, grabbing two flutes of champagne and handing her one.

  ‘Why do I have to choose?’

  She smiled. When he smiled back, she realised it wasn’t her smartest decision. Because he had an effect on her. The entire package of him in that suit, its black lines skimming his impressive shoulders, the shirt beneath it clinging to a chest she wished she knew more about it. And when he smiled, with that crinkling of his eyes...

  She felt as if she was the only person in the world.

  She had no right to feel that way. Especially when they’d just spoken about how difficult it was to move on. Because she knew it, she downed her flute of champagne, wishing she could be as light as one of those bubbles. Floating away into the night sky, avoiding all her desires.

  ‘We should probably speak to people, right?’ she asked.

  ‘Right.’ He took her empty glass, replaced it with a full one as if it didn’t concern him at all that hers was empty when he’d barely touched his. ‘Let’s go find some people.’

  People loved him. Of course they did. He was easy and charming and he smiled. A lot. And not in a creepy way, but in a way that made people feel comfortable. The British company was clearly courting him. Each conversation was a pitch hidden in mundane observation. She could sense their respect in all of it. She wondered if he realised how much they wanted him.

  He introduced her as his ‘friend,’ which didn’t feel like the right description. But then, she didn’t know what the right description would be. If they weren’t friends, and they weren’t in a relationship, what was left? Employer and employee? And since neither of them wanted to explain that situation, friend seemed like the safest bet.

  For dinner, they were seated at a long table in the middle of the room, with the CEO of the company that was courting Tyler and a few more executives. It wasn’t as bad as she expected, making conversation with strangers. She hadn’t done it in a long time, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it.

  The knowledge subtly nudged something inside her. It took her a moment to realise it was her confidence. She hadn’t been avoiding social situations because she didn’t have the skills to navigate them. She’d been doing it because she hadn’t been ready to face them. And now... Well, now she thought that maybe she was.

  At the end of the dinner, music began to play and some people moved to the dance floor. Others went to the bar.

  She went to get dessert.

  ‘You’ve been waiting all evening for this, haven’t you?’ Tyler asked when she told him.

  ‘Why would you say that?’ she asked innocently, but winked. ‘Should I get you anything?’

  His lips had parted and he was staring at her. For a short moment, she thought he might be having some kind of medical episode.

  ‘Tyler...?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He blinked. ‘Get me whatever you’re getting.’

  ‘I’m not sure you can eat all I’m getting.’

  He smiled, but still seemed distracted. ‘Try me.’

  ‘If you insist.’

  She grabbed a tray and began putting two of everything that appealed to her on a plate. She was reaching for an eclair when someone started speaking.

  ‘You’re Brooke, right? You’re here with Tyler?’

  ‘What?’

  She turned, found herself staring at a woman with long dark hair. Brooke hadn’t spoken to her yet that evening; she was the spouse of one of the executives who had been sitting some distance away from them.

  ‘You’re Tyler Murphy’s wife?’

  She opened her mouth, exhaled a little, then managed a smile. ‘No. We’re...we’re friends.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry. You both...’ She shook her head, a blush lighting her cheeks.

  She hadn’t said it to get a reaction, Brooke realised. She’d genuinely thought Brooke and Tyler were married.

  ‘We both what?’

  ‘I’ve already made this more uncomfortable than it needed to be. I shouldn’t have assumed.’

  ‘I’d like to know,’ Brooke said softly, though she was almost certain she didn’t.

  ‘You both look...close.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘Like you have a secret no one else is privy to. That’s how people used to describe me and my husband. But I’ve clearly made a mistake.’ She offered a tentative smile. ‘Friends can have that, too.’

  Except she and Tyler weren’t really friends.

  She was right; she hadn’t wanted the answer at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SINCE BROOKE HAD come back with their dessert, she’d been acting strangely.

  Of course, it could have been a reaction to the way he’d malfunctioned when she’d winked at him. His body had simply gone haywire. It had taken one teasing wink, reimagined in an entirely different context—something much more intimate than a formal function—and suddenly he’d been hotter than the evening called for and immensely glad his lower body was obscured by a table.

  But it couldn’t be that. Brooke hadn’t seemed to notice th
e moment, and he didn’t want to project when the reason for her behaviour could be entirely different.

  A slow song began to play. More people moved to the dance floor, and he thought he might have a chance to figure it out.

  ‘Would you like to dance?’

  Brooke’s hand paused as it brought a spoonful of chocolate mousse to her mouth. ‘Now?’

  ‘After that bite, if you’d like.’

  She blushed, but despite that, her hand hovered, as if she were deciding what the best course of action might be. He started to hide his smile—but what was the point? So he watched her, enjoyed her, and felt yet another shift in their relationship.

  ‘Don’t judge me,’ she told him. ‘You offered.’

  She ate the spoonful of mousse, swallowed, then drank from her glass of water. A second later, she stood, regal as ever, and smiled. ‘Thank you for asking.’

  ‘I should thank you for accepting,’ he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

  In movements that should have been too smooth for him to have done it, he brought her into his arms and began to sway.

  ‘I was certain you were going to say no,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  He’d wanted this, hadn’t he? A moment to speak with her and find out why she had been acting strangely these last few minutes. But now that he had the opportunity...he didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to hear whatever it was because it was sure to upset her, and she wasn’t upset now.

  Or was she?

  Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the tension in her body. It was slight, but clear. She held herself away from him. Not enough to make it seem weird as they danced, but enough to make it obvious that she wanted distance. But it didn’t seem as if she was doing it for him. It seemed as if...as if she was doing it for someone else.

  ‘Did someone say something to you?’

  The tension in her body became much clearer. Her stiffening very much directed towards him now.

  ‘What do you mean?’