Yours to Savor (27 page)

“Nobody has ever…” Sandra shuddered in memory. “Nobody has ever made love to me like that.”

Brandon trailed his finger along the curve of her neck, through the hollow by her shoulder, and down her arm. His smile was as pleased as it was lazy. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

She gave him a look that told him how little she believed that.

Her rumbling stomach jerked her out of the moment and made her blush.

Brandon’s amused smile widened, and his hand skimmed along her bare breasts to come to rest on her belly. “I take it you’re hungry after all that?”

“Should we get some food?”

“You’re enough to last me for days.”

Sandra laughed, and Brandon’s eyes lit up at the sound. He looked as happy as she’d ever seen him. “Well, we still have all that food from last night.”

Brandon sat up, unconsciously flexing his pecs in the process. “You’re right. You made us dinner and I never got to try your cooking.”

“It’s cold by now. I was thinking maybe we could go out.”

“And I was thinking we could stay in bed for a week.” He took her hand, and brushed her knuckles over his lips.

Sandra sighed, not quite believing that she was living this fantasy. But Brandon’s touch was real. The way he made her feel was real. Her devoured body told her as much.

“Why don’t I cook us something, then? The kitchen in this suite must have everything we need. I asked for it to be fully stocked.”

Sandra’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

This time, it was Brandon’s turn to laugh. “You don’t put a lot of stock in my kitchen prowess? It’s one of three skills I’m most proud of.”

“And the other two?”

His eyes shone with mischief. “You experienced one of them today.”

Before she could ask about the last, he swept out of bed and tugged his pants on. And walked out of the bedroom shirtless.

Sandra sighed again, content. She half-expected to wake up at any moment and find herself back in her tiny apartment. When that didn’t happen, she dug a robe out of the closet and followed Brandon to the kitchen.

She found him struggling with the stove. He had three eggs in one hand, a knife in the other, and looked completely lost.

“Problem?” she asked, bemused.

“It’s different than what I’m used to,” he muttered.

She came up behind him, wrapping one arm around his torso and pressing herself against his back. With her free hand, she turned the dial that switched the range on.

“Thank you.” He turned around, pressed his nose against her hair, took a deep breath. “Did I tell you how good you smell?”

“After sex, or during?”

“
Always
.”

That was when she heard the crack, and saw that he had inadvertently squeezed one of the eggs too tight. She raised an eyebrow. “Kitchen prowess, you said?”

Brandon shrugged and gave her a cheeky grin. “I may have exaggerated a bit.”

Sandra laughed with delight, and he kissed her again.

Later, when Sandra was seated at the table, chewing Brandon’s not-quite-edible eggs, she finally got to ask him the question that had been burning in her mind. “So, what do you do?”

Brandon frowned up at her. “I told you before.”

“No, like really. Where did you go last night?”

“I had to take care of a worried client.”

“For what, though? You know where I work, but I have no idea about you.”

“Now, now,” Brandon smiled, amused. “I know where you work, but I also know you’re not just a receptionist. You didn’t need to go to college for that. So, as long as you keep your secrets, I’ll keep mine.”

“Secrets? I don’t have any secrets,” she said.
Except one, anyway
.

“Well, there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye. Why work where you do if you have a college degree? I know that’s not your true calling.”

“How can you be so confident of that?” she asked, evading giving him an answer to his question.

“I’ve spent time with you, Sandra. You’re sharp. Intelligent. And yet, for some reason, you hide all that from the world.”

“I don’t…
hide
,” she protested.

“I saw how you took to wearing that dress the other night. You
glowed
in it. Your body was meant to be seen, Sandra, and your mind meant to be engaged. You won’t find any of that in a doctor’s office. Especially not in a place like Ocean Shores.”

“Fine,” Sandra said, “I’ll tell you. But I want the truth from you, after. I went to school and studied to be a doctor. I was supposed to continue med school after Henry and I got married. But then we broke up, and I kind of drifted from town to town until I found myself in Ocean Shores.”

“A doctor?” Brandon smiled and leaned back. “Yes, I can see that. You have a sweet heart—when it’s not locked behind iron bars.”

“
Brandon
!” Sandra made a face at him. “Well, I told you about me. It’s your turn. What do you do?”

He shrugged. “It’s not glamorous. Like I told you before, I’m a businessman. I deal in real estate. Developing land, buying and selling properties, things like that.”

“You must do it well, then, to be so successful.”

Brandon grunted. “Work is work. It’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

“Why?”

“A lot of it is dull. Paper work, legal documents, dealing with banks.”

“Why do you do it, then? Is it just the money?”

“No,” Brandon admitted. “There are some things about it I love. Striking deals. Meeting new people. Negotiating terms. It gives me a rush.”

Sandra could imagine Brandon in a corporate boardroom. She could see him doing very well meeting with clients. He had charisma and a natural charm. It would be very easy for people to like him, and, coupled with his natural dominance, easy for him to succeed.

Then, she remembered something else she’d been meaning to ask for a while. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re from Chicago?”

Brandon started. “Excuse me?”

“On your boat—”

“My yacht.”

“Your yacht, sorry. But you guessed that I was from there. Why didn’t you tell me you were, too?”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, his expression very grave. “How do you know that?”

Sandra bit her tongue. She remembered the promise she’d made Clarisse. But with Brandon’s unforgiving stare aimed right at her, she didn’t know quite how to answer. “Um, Charles mentioned it?” she said tentatively.

“Charles? My driver, Charles?” Brandon shook his head. “No. He doesn’t know that about me. It was Clarisse, wasn’t it?”

Sandra squirmed under his scrutinizing glare. “Well… yes,” she managed after a second. “But
please
don’t get mad at her. Clarisse let it slip accidentally, and made me promise not to tell you.”

A dark cloud suddenly came over Brandon’s face. “Sandra,” he said very slowly, “I want to make two things clear. One, you should never be afraid to tell me anything. And two,
never
lie to me. I’ll know if you do. I want our relationship to work. Trust is important to me. I want us to trust each other without reservation.” He looked her right in the eye. “I know that will take time, but the only way to get there is to start now. I’ll swear never to lie to you, too, if you agree.”

Sandra considered what he said… and nodded. “Trust is important to me, too.”

“So you agree?” he asked

“I do.”

“Good.” Brandon shoulders relaxed slightly. “Now, do you want to know why I didn’t mention Chicago?”

Something in Brandon’s tone warned her that this was a dangerous path to explore, but if she was going to be in a relationship with him, she needed to know about his past. “Yes.”

He exhaled, and his eyes stayed dark. “I left Chicago a very long time ago. I was… very different back then. I didn’t tell you about it because I do not like to think about it myself. There was misery and turmoil in my past. That’s why I left the city. And that is why I never talk about it.”

Sandra knew she would get no more from him than that. She could see the pain that just
mentioning
Chicago brought. She couldn’t imagine something so extreme it would be difficult for someone as strong as Brandon to face. It had to be bad. Suddenly, she felt guilty for pushing the subject. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… shouldn’t have pried.”
After all, I have my own personal demons I don’t talk about.

Brandon grunted. “Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have known. I want you to trust me. But some things are better left unsaid.”

“Of course.”
I understand that better than you know.
She smiled, which was hard given how heavy the conversation had become. “I do trust you, Brandon.”

He smiled back at her, then. “Good.” His voice regained some of its former levity. “Now, let’s finish our breakfast and go pick out your outfit for the evening.”

Brandon sat back and watched Sandra try on the myriad of clothes she’d bought with Clarisse. It was obvious to him how much she enjoyed them. It amused him every time she tried to suggest returning them out of some misplaced sense of morals or guilt. She didn’t like handouts, she told him, to which he replied that the clothes were a
gift
. After all, she’d accepted the flowers he’d sent her, hadn’t she? And what was the difference between that and this, aside from some thousands of dollars? It was pocket change to him, anyway.

It didn’t take
that
much convincing to get her to consent. To most of it, anyway. Sandra was stubborn, and insisted on picking out only one thing for tonight, and then keeping that garment, together with the blue dress from last night and the silver one from their Space Needle date. She wanted to return the rest. Brandon had no intention of letting her have it that way, but he let her think she had a chance.

But as he watched her, so carefree and happy in the middle of the living room, dancing with each step, he could not share her mirth. Something else troubled him.

He did not like how he’d handled the conversation about his job. Not that he’d lied to her; real estate was something he’d dabbled in on the side for a few years, and his plan was to dive straight into that world once he stepped away from the drug trade.

But even if he hadn’t lied to Sandra outright, neglecting to mention what had made him his fortune was a glaring omission. Yet he could not risk telling her so soon… not until he could get a feel for how she would react. He’d have to fight against all the imprinted, negative stereotypes in her mind about drug dealers—no matter how different the truth of his business was from that fiction.

Brandon had no idea how he would break it to her, or when, but he knew he’d have to.
Eventually
. He did not intend to keep anything from Sandra, but that did not mean revealing everything at the start.

Besides, she had her own walls built up about something from her past. Brandon was sure of it. Clarisse sharing his suspicion was enough to convince him. Sandra put up a strong front, but beneath that, she remained shockingly fragile. When she had submitted to him that morning, she was there completely and fully; exposed and unguarded. Brandon wanted to know
why
she put up her façade, and what it was that she was hiding from the world.

Every once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of her face from the side and have the distinct impression he’d seen her somewhere before. He had to find out why.

Well, all that would take time. And time he had. But Brandon knew it was a risky game he was playing—especially if Sandra’s trust was as fragile as he suspected.