Made to Love (8 page)

Nathan

I leaned back in my seat, gazing at Reagan as
she sipped her wine.  I had brought her to Ayza, and after ordering drinks and
an assortment of appetizers, we had chatted mundanely about work.  I could tell
the wine and chocolate bar was a new experience for her, and after being seated
and seeing how busy the place was, she had seemed ready to bolt.  But now, I
think she was calming down.  Whether that was from the wine or because she had
figured a night out with me wasn’t that bad, I didn’t care.  She was here; a
breath of fresh air after the shitty day I had had.  After seeing my mother
off, I had left to go blow off some steam at the gym rather than return to my
office.  Guilt had besieged me as I berated myself for how I had handled things
with her.  I should have listened to her, let her get it out of her system for
yet another time, and personally seen her home.  No, what I should have done
was marched her up to her husband and forced him to see to her.  That was half
the problem with this family; we were masters at avoidance.  If we didn’t talk
about it, it didn’t exist.  Myself included.  There was so much we needed to
deal with, to air openly, to heal from, but instead we chose to pretend nothing
was wrong.  We’d been doing it for two years now, and I didn’t know if we would
ever be able to find our way back from it.  I was just so tired of it all. 

My brows furrowed slightly as I willed my
mind to clear of the day’s events and focus solely on the woman across from
me.  She deserved my undivided attention.  “Tell me about yourself,” I
suggested as I stretched an arm across the back of the seat. 

She swallowed, and gave a nervous laugh. 
Shit.  I didn’t want her to be nervous with me.  “What do you want to know?”

“Anything . . . everything,” I replied.  This
was a completely honest answer, and something new for me.  I didn’t need a
woman’s life story in order to share her bed, so I’d never bothered.  Besides,
asking a woman to reveal herself to you in a discussion about her life, her
family. . . .Where she came from. .what made her tick . . . these were all
things that gave the impression I truly wanted to know her. . . .
Really
know her.  And this generally had her thinking of things like wedding cakes and
babies, something I devoutly steered clear of.  But Miss Reagan Andrews defied
that logic.  I truly
did
want to know her. 

She set her glass back on the table and
picked up her napkin, twisting it over and over.   “There isn’t much to tell,
really.”

I knew I needed to proceed with caution, and
yet I couldn’t help myself.  “I doubt that,” I answered gently.  “Where did you
grow up?  Things like that.”

“I’ve lived in Texas my whole life, until I
moved here.”  She said it with such finality, as if that single sentence summed
up her entire life, when I knew that couldn’t possibly be the case.  It was
clear she had no desire to talk about herself, and as much as I wanted to learn
more about her, I refused to press the issue.  Okay, so Texas was off limits. 
I moved on.

“Ah, yes.  With Brooke.  And how do you know
her?”  Surely her roommate was safe enough. 

Reagan placed her twisted heap of a napkin
beside her plate and visibly relaxed.  “I met Brooke through her cousin, who
was my college advisor.  She needed a roommate and so here I am.”

“What made you choose New York?  That’s a
long way from Texas.”

She laughed.  “Yes, it is.  I don’t know
really.  I just needed to get away . . . start over.  My mom wasn’t too keen on
the idea at first, but she’s come around.”  She shifted in her seat, and gave a
little sigh. “What about you?” she asked, completely shifting the attention
back to me.

“Me?” I raised an eyebrow and grinned.  “Born
and raised here in the great state of New York.  Traveled around a bit in my
college years, and lived in Boston for almost two years, running the office
there.  I moved back right before Christmas.”

“Are you an only child?”

And just like that, it was my turn to clam
up.  People in my circle, women I generally became involved with, knew the
Preston family.  So there was no need to discuss what had happened two years
ago.  Not that I would have if they’d asked.  But they didn’t because they
already knew.  Everyone did.

Except this girl.  She didn’t know.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about
it. 

But I couldn’t be rude to her.

                I cleared my throat.  “Uh, no.  I mean, now I
am, but. .” I trailed off, cursing my inability to form a complete sentence.  I
had a brother, and he died.  How hard was it really to say that?  I tried
again.  “I had an older brother, Thomas.  He passed away about two years ago,”
I finished flatly, downing my drink. 

Reagan stared at me, kindness and pity
darkening her gaze.  “I’m sorry.  Were the two of you close?”

I tugged on my collar.  I couldn’t believe I
was about to discuss my brother with a woman I was trying to get into bed. 
This was not how I had imagined our first date, unofficial though it was, would
go.  I should be charming the pants off her.  Literally.  Not sharing my
feelings about my dead brother as if I was laid out on my therapist’s couch. 
Christ. 
“Yes, you could say we were very close.” It was all I could manage. 

Reagan looked as if she would say more, but
then seemed to sense, perhaps even understand my hesitation.  She reached over
to take the wine bottle and poured herself another half glass, breaking the tension. 
Conversation turned back to work, as we chatted lightly about how she was
getting along in her department.  Reagan was easy to talk to, and I was
surprised to find myself enjoying the simple small talk. 

It wasn’t until her cell phone pinged that I
chanced to look at the time and realized how long we’d been sitting there.  I
signaled for the check.  “It’s getting late, and I’ve taken enough of your time
this evening.”

 I hadn’t taken nearly as much as I wanted
to, but that was beside the point.

Reagan tossed her phone back in her bag.  “Yes
. . . well, thank you for tonight, Nathan.  It was really nice.”

I stood and pulled on my suit jacket.  “No
problem,” I replied, as we made our way to the door.  “You deserve it.  And I
had a great time as well.”  I helped her into my Escalade, shamelessly checking
out her ass and legs as I did.  Under normal circumstances, I’d be well on my
way to having those legs wrapped around me, but this was Reagan.  And patience,
while not my forte, was key. 

Even though it was killing me.

After securing her address, and mentally
tucking the information away for future reference, I pulled into traffic.  All
too quickly we were standing in front of her apartment building, the awkward
‘should I kiss her or just leave’ pause between us.  It had been a long time
since I’d done this and I hated to admit I felt a little out of my element.  I
stared down at her, and was struck again with how beautiful she was.  The thing
was, I don’t think she was truly aware of it, and this only increased her
appeal. 

I wanted to kiss every inch of her body. 

Patience, my ass.

                “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me
tonight.  I hope this won’t be the last.”

She glanced up at me, uncertainty in her
eyes.  “You’re welcome.  Nathan, I—“

“Sssshhh,” I whispered, placing a finger on
her lips.  I knew she wanted to set some boundaries for this, whatever it was,
but those could come later.  Tonight, it was just me and her.  And I was
itching to taste her again.  I needed to.
 
“Reagan, I want. . . I need
to . . . I’m going to kiss you again,” I finished just as our mouths crashed
together. 

Her bag fell to the ground as her arms made
their way to my shoulders.  I pulled her waist closer against me and deepened
the kiss.  Her lips were soft and pliant beneath mine, her mouth hot.  I
explored her mouth with my tongue, tasting raspberry flavored gloss and the
wine she’d drank earlier.   I was out of my head with want for her.  When one
of her hands tightened at the hair at the nape of my neck, and she softly
whimpered, I almost lost all control right there on her doorstep. 

My memories had nothing on the real thing.

I tore my mouth from hers and we stood there
staring at each other as I continued to hold her, breath coming in short
gasps. 

“I should get inside,” she said softly.  Awareness
spread across her face, and I knew her defenses were springing back up.

I released her, bending to pick up her bag. 
She took it and turned away from me, scrambling for her keys.  She was running,
and I couldn’t allow that.  I grabbed her waist, pulling her back against me as
I stood behind her.  She tensed slightly, but then relaxed against me as I
continued to do nothing more than hold her until our breathing returned to
normal.  Neither of us spoke a word, and after a few moments, I lightly kissed
the side of her neck and stepped away.  Without looking back, she let herself
into her building and disappeared inside.

Reagan

I slid to the floor against my bedroom door. 
W
hat was I doing?

Tonight was supposed to be just a celebratory
drink among friends.  Yet, even as I repeated this to myself, I knew deep down
that it wasn’t true.  And I also knew that when I had agreed to go out with him
in the first place, but had accepted anyway.  I just wanted to enjoy myself,
but kissing Nathan again reminded me that I was playing with fire.  He was
unlike anyone else I had ever been involved with.  For starters, he was
insanely gorgeous.  Not that there weren’t hot guys in Texas, because there
were, but not Nathan Preston hot.  The man was borderline beautiful. . . .Could
a man be considered beautiful?  I wasn’t sure, but if so, Nathan Preston
defined it.   Secondly, he was also insanely rich, and I was sure that in his
circle, there were rules about dating someone who wasn’t.  Not to mention that
he was Roger Preston’s son.  If there were no such rules in Nathan’s circle,
I’m pretty positive his Dad had a rule about dating employees. 

Third, and probably the most insane of all,
he invoked feelings in me that I had never experienced before.  Seriously. 
Every nerve ending in my body came alive when he was near.  I had never been so
aware of a man in my life.  Physical attraction aside, he had this way of
looking at me, as if he was really
seeing
me.   He was charming, and I
found myself warring between throwing myself naked at his feet, and spilling my
guts about my entire life story.  I didn’t know how to handle him and because
of that, I knew none of my past ways of handling relationships and men were
going to work. 

Why . . .
why
couldn’t be simply be
the barista at Gabby’s coffee house?  I would at least know how to deal with
that.  This. . . .t
hing
with Nathan?  It was a whole new ballgame.  I
buried my face in my hands and groaned. 

Remembering my earlier text from Helen, I
fired off a quick response letting her know I would call her tomorrow.  I
picked myself up off the floor, changed and crawled into bed.  I had a feeling
I was in for a restless night.

The next morning I woke early, having not
slept well the night before.  I was contemplating what to do with my hair when
Brooke appeared in my doorway, looking the picture of petite perfection.

“Good morning.  I was going to come bearing
coffee, but I wasn’t sure what kind you wanted,” she offered. 

“No problem,” I told her, finally deciding
upon a low chignon, and began twisting my long hair. 

“So,” she began, walking in and plopping on
my bed.  “I hear you totally rocked your presentation yesterday.  Royce Johnson
was singing your praises all night last night.”

                I couldn’t hide my surprise as I turned to
her, a pair of shoes in each hand.  “Really?  And how do you know this?”

Brooke pointed to the black, open-toed heels
in my left hand and I slipped them on.  “Because I had a dinner meeting with
Mr. Preston, and Royce was there, too.”

We headed to the kitchen, where I brewed
myself some coffee.  “Good,” I replied, relief flooding my voice.  “Nathan said
they were happy, but it helps to hear it again.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me.  “Nathan?” she
questioned with a smirk.

I quickly changed the subject.  “How long
will you be gone?”

Brooke laughed.  “Probably around two weeks. 
Mr. Preston has a full itinerary planned while we are there, so sadly I won’t
be doing much sight-seeing, though,” she answered glumly.

“Yeah, but Tokyo . . . come on, it should
still be fun, right?”

“Of course!”  She brightened, and hopped up on
the counter, facing me.  “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?  Being a newbie
around here and all,” she quipped.

I smiled.  “Yes, I’ll be fine.  I will be
kept plenty busy myself working on this Johnson & Johnson account.”  I
packed up my bag, and then paused.  I’d never had a friend to share
confidences, and bemoan the shortcomings of the opposite sex with a BFF.  So I
wasn’t entirely sure how to approach the topic without invoking a long heart to
heart, but I needed information, and I knew Brooke would be a fountain of it. 

“So, did you know Nathan had a brother?”

Brooke looked surprised.  “He told you about
Thomas, then?  Interesting.”

“No, not really.  We were just talking and I
asked him if he had any siblings.  He just said that he did, but that he had
died.  That’s all.”

Brooke climbed off the counter and rinsed out
her cup.  I had a feeling she was stalling, but didn’t know why.  After a few
moments, she turned to me. 

“Thomas was a few years older than Nathan. 
He ran the Boston office until he died, at which point Nathan took over. 
Thomas’s death devastated everyone.  It was really hard, but Nathan stepped
up.”

I leaned against the counter, suddenly not
concerned with rushing to work.  “He wasn’t involved in Elite before then?”

“I don’t think so.”  Her voice dropped, as if
she was concerned about being overheard, even though we were the only two
here.  “From what I have heard, Nathan was kinda like what you would call the
black sheep of the family.  He traveled a lot out of college and basically slept
his way across the Atlantic.”

Some unnamed emotion must have crossed my
face because Brooke hastened to explain.  “But that was a long time ago, and
only what I know from idle water cooler gossip, of course.  I do know that
since Thomas passed, Nathan has increased the clientele in Boston and has done
really well with it.  Even though he is now based out of the Manhattan office,
he still goes to Boston at least every other week.”

I couldn’t help but ask. “How did Thomas
die?”

“Car accident.  He was heading home from an
Elite dinner party and a truck came out of nowhere.  Turned out the driver of
the truck was totally wasted.  Nice, huh? “She looked away, and her voice
softened.  “It will be two years next week since he died.”

                My eyes widened.  Next week?  She would be in
Japan with Roger Preston next week.  What kind of man wasn’t around for what I
was sure was one of the hardest days of the year for his wife and remaining
son?  That seemed like a complete shitty thing to do, to put business before
his family.  My growing dislike for Roger Preston swelled at this bit of
information, but I figured trashing Brooke’s boss to her face was probably
unwise.  

And Thomas, Katherine Preston’s son, had been
killed at the hands of a drunk driver? 
Oh, the irony!

“Anyway,” Brooke continued, “if Nathan told
you about Thomas, things are further along than I thought.  He doesn’t talk
about Thomas.  Ever.”

I shrugged.  “I asked and I’m sure it was
nothing more than him not wanting to be rude.”  I slung my bag over my shoulder
and opened the door, putting an end to Q&A time.  

“Okay.  We’ll go with that,” Brooke drawled,
as she joined me. 

My cheeks flushed as we headed downstairs to
hail a cab. 

We had to go with that because I was slightly
afraid of the alternative.