Made to Love (5 page)

Reagan

I was exhausted by the time I entered my
bedroom to change that evening.  Brooke had texted me she was picking up
Chinese takeout on the way home, which worked out well as I was anxious to
begin working on the rough draft, and had no desire to spend an hour in the
kitchen whipping up something for dinner.  I changed into shorts and a t-shirt,
grabbed my laptop and the file on J & J, and headed into the living room. 
While I waited for the laptop to power up, I dialed Helen to check in. 

“Hi honey,” she answered. 

“Hey, how are you?” I asked.

“I’m good.  But what about you?  How was your
first week of work?  Do you like it?” Typical Helen.  Always putting me first,
even when I didn’t deserve it.

“I do.  It’s hard work, and there are things
that will take some getting used to, but I’m doing something I love.  I just
landed my first assignment for a client,” I explained. 

“Really?  I’m so happy for you, Reagan,”
Helen gushed. 

“How is everything at home?  Work going ok
for you?” I inquired.

Helen sighed.  “Oh, you know, work is work. 
Delivering the mail never gets old.” She chuckled.

“Well, I better get going.  I have a rough
draft due Monday and I don’t want to mess it up.  I’ll call you next week?”

“Sounds good, honey.  Have a good weekend!”

We said our goodbyes, and I opened the file
on Johnson and Johnson.  It was a hotel and spa chain that I vaguely remembered
hearing about years ago.  The chain was run by identical twins, Robert and
Royce Johnson.  From great food, the finest wines, to state of the art spa
treatments, the goal at Johnson & Johnson was complete and utter
relaxation.  They took the term ‘five-star hotel’ to a whole new level. 

The newest location was opening in Lanikai
Beach, in Kailua, Hawaii.  I studied the layout of the plans, and began writing
down ideas.  I had been working for perhaps an hour when Brooke came in.

“Reagan,” she called out.

“In the living room,” I answered.

“I have sesame chicken and wonderful news!”
Brooke was ecstatic as she emptied several white cartons and a pile of
chopsticks from a bag onto the coffee table.

I closed my laptop and sat it off to the
side, reaching forward to snag a small carton.  My stomach growled as I inhaled
the scent.  I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.  “Wonderful news, huh?  Like
what?”

“We have plans this weekend,” she announced,
beaming with barely controlled glee. 

“Yes, I do have plans.  They involve
sweatpants, my laptop and lots of caffeine.  I have to write up this proposal
for Mr. Preston,” I reminded her as I dug into my chicken.  I was starving.

“No, you will be joining me in the Hamptons
at his summer house instead.  I just got personally invited by Katherine
Preston herself,” Brooke exclaimed. 

I almost choked.  “What?  No way, Brooke. 
You saw what happened today.  Roger Preston practically ate me up as his
afternoon snack.  I’m supposed to be working on a proposal to show him Monday
morning.  The last thing he needs is to see me partying it up in the Hamptons,”
I told her.

Brooke rolled her eyes and flopped on the
sofa.  “Honestly?  There will be so many people there I doubt he will even know
you are, too.  You can’t work all weekend.  We were invited, personally.  As in
Katherine Preston came to my office to hand me this.” Brooke reached into her
purse and pulled out a gray envelope, upon which had been written the words: 
Brooke
Wade, plus one
.

“You were invited.  My name is not on that
anywhere I can see,” I argued. 

“Plus one, which means I get to bring a
friend.  And that is you.  Now get to packing,” she ordered.  “We leave early
tomorrow morning.  Katherine said she will have a car sent for us.”

I looked from Brooke’s pleading face to my
laptop and the open file on the couch.  Part of me wanted to insist that there
was no way I could possibly waste time in the Hamptons at a party filled with
people I didn’t know, because not only did I have this proposal draft hanging
over my head, but I still had Gabby’s website to consider.  But the other part
of me, a part that seemed to be winning, screamed at me to be spontaneous. 

I sighed with a groan.  “Fine!  I’ll go, but
I have to get some work done tonight at least,” I told her.

“Yay!” Brooke squealed.  “Do you want me to
help you pack or anything?”

I contemplated letting her, but didn’t feel
comfortable with it.  We weren’t there yet, I supposed.  Besides, I didn’t want
to have the subject of my mom’s dress coming up again when Brooke invaded my
closet.  “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it when I’m done here.  It won’t take
me long.”

“Don’t work too hard,” she instructed, as she
collected the empty containers.  Blowing me a kiss, she disappeared into her
bedroom to do her own packing, and I picked up my laptop, determined to make
some headway before morning.

Nathan

I let myself in the kitchen, weaving my way
through the countless staff hired for the weekend to oversee the food,
decorations, and guest accommodations.  The place was a madhouse already.  For
all her faults, Mom sure did know how to throw a party. 

She had been more than willing to extend an
invite to Brooke and a plus one when I had suggested it yesterday afternoon. 
Brooke had been to the occasional work party, but never a Hampton’s party.  Probably
my father’s doing.  I had my suspicions, and supposed I shouldn’t be so cynical
when Brooke didn’t seem the type, but this was my father we were talking
about. 

However, mom was relentless in her attempts
to see me married off, and I’m sure that my suggestion to her screamed ‘hook up’. 
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to set me up with Brooke, and
probably wouldn’t be the last.  It was a small price to pay to see Reagan, and
if all went well, I would make some headway on my plan of getting this girl out
of my system.  The thought that she may not even show up didn’t even occur to
me. 

Of course, there was the minor issue of her
learning I was the boss’s son.  While I didn’t consider this a reason to stop
pursuing her, it could pose some complications.  We’d just have to be discreet,
that’s all.

Speaking of the boss, I briefly wondered if
he knew his assistant was going to be here.   Knowing him, the guest list had
probably been emailed to him days ago, so the chances of catching him off guard
were slim to none, but one could still hope. 

I bypassed a team of florists carrying peony
displays and snagged a muffin from the breakfast bar, feeling anxious. 

“Nathaniel, there you are, so glad you came
early.” Katherine Preston breezed into the kitchen, dressed in a white and blue
gauzy dress that hit her knees.  Her blonde hair was swept in a French twist
and her makeup was flawless.  I had never seen my mother look anything less
than perfection.

“Mother, good morning.  Have the guests
started to arrive?” I leaned in to kiss her cheek, gratefully noting there was
no discernible smell of alcohol.  Thank God for small miracles. 

Although, it was still early. 

“Not yet, but I am sure it will only be a few
more hours and this place will be packed.” Katherine smiled.  “Anxious to see someone,
dear?” 

That hadn’t taken long.  She was trying her
best to appear nonchalant, but the fact I had personally asked her to invite
Brooke was eating at her.  She assumed my inquiry was aimed at learning how
quickly Brooke would be here.  As if I couldn’t wait to see her.

If only she knew. 

I played ignorant.  “Don’t go back to playing
matchmaker,” I laughed. 

“Well, why else would you have suggested—“

“Mom, we’ve been over this.  I’m no more
interested in Brooke Wade than she is me.  I was just trying to . . . you know
. . . be nice.”  It sounded shady, even to my ears, but it was the best I could
come up with without giving mom something else to pounce on. 

“Nathanial, I only want to see you happy. 
Ever since Thomas . . .,” her voice trailed off, and I watched her swallow
several times, visibly working to control her emotions.  It somehow always came
back to this, and I knew she’d be hitting the bottle sooner rather than later. 
I hated it.

I felt hot, and tugged at the collar of my
polo.  I needed to get out of here.  “Whatever, Mom.  I’ll be outside.” I
headed through the patio, but not before noticing my mother pull out a wine
glass.  As much as I cursed her for her weakness, I felt sorry for her, too. 
It hadn’t always been this way.

I sighed, and stalked down toward the pool. 
My father was conversing with one of the groundskeepers, and caught my eye as I
passed.  I stared at him for a moment, silently willing him to man up and head
inside before things got out of hand.  He briefly closed his eyes, but then
turned his attention back to his conversation.  I shook my head in disgust, as
I continued on.   

He knew full well what mom was doing right
now, but was making no attempts to stop her.

He never did. And part of me hated him for it.

Reagan

I remember waking up the morning after
Charlie had left, and feeling a desolate resignation to my current situation. 
I was just a few weeks shy of eleven years old, and since I’d figured out how
mom earned her money, and how she spent it, things hadn’t been the same.  The
men came more frequently, and were increasingly more demanding.  Alex, Jacob
and I would hide in the boys’ bedroom closet, while Charlie stationed himself
outside the door, until whoever was with our mother finally left and the house
grew quiet.  Jacob was three years older than me, but at fourteen, he didn’t
have Charlie’s brawny strength should anyone actually attempt to enter our
hiding place.  And Alex, well, he was just a baby at eight.  No protection at
all. 

We had always had those times when Charlie
had taken us out to play, or ushered us into one bedroom for a while, where’d
we play “I Spy” or some other silly game.  I knew mom had visitors during those
times, but hadn’t yet learned what that meant.  And I enjoyed the times spent
with my brothers.  But now?  Now I knew.  And with my body starting to develop,
the almost constant stream of men, and with Charlie becoming more agitated by
the day, things were slipping out of control. 

So I guess I wasn’t surprised that morning
when I woke up to find Jacob sitting on the edge of my bed, with the news that
our brother, Charlie, at age sixteen, was missing.  Looking back, it’s a wonder
I didn’t fall apart.  Charlie was the one who had promised to keep me and my
brothers safe.  And how he was gone.

But I didn’t fall apart.  I simply laid
there in silence, holding Jacob’s hand, as I felt myself grow numb.  Mom was
wailing in her room, but whether that was from the loss of her oldest son, or
because she was coming down from a high, it was hard to tell. 

Who would protect us now?

I fidgeted with the hem of the turquoise
sundress Brooke had let me borrow, and insisted I wear.  I was more than
slightly nervous to be staying the weekend at Roger Preston’s house.  I mean,
seriously.  What would he think to see me here, knowing the draft he had
demanded of me?  The last thing I wanted was for him to think I didn’t take my
job seriously.  Thankfully I had been able to make some good headway last
night, but I still had some work to do when I returned tomorrow night.  I
didn’t want him thinking I had just thrown something together.  My unease
multiplied as we turned into a gated driveway.  Perhaps I should have stayed
home. 

                “That must be the house,” Brooke announced, as
the limo driver pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of the
biggest house I had ever seen.  Tasteful landscaping and perfectly manicured
lawns surrounded it on both sides, and the house itself, made of blonde brick,
had a four car garage and floor to ceiling windows all across the front.  And
was that a guest house there off to the side?  It wasn’t hard to imagine
celebrities living here, and I smiled as I figured Roger Preston probably
considered himself as such.

I followed her out of car, taking a deep
breath and pulling my lightweight cardigan tighter around me.  There were other
cars dropping off guests, and as we waited for the driver to unload our
luggage, I felt horribly out of place.  The fanciest homes in Austin could not
have prepared me for this kind of luxury, had I ever had cause to visit them,
which of course I hadn’t.  We wheeled our luggage inside, where it was
immediately taken from us and we were ushered to our rooms.  The bedroom I had
been given was done in stark black and white, with a splash of teal thrown in
to soften it up.  One wall was entirely papered in black and white damask
print, and the four poster bed sported a solid black down comforter.  My mind
reeled at the cost it must have taken to furnish this room alone.

I placed my bags on the bed, and turned when
Brooke knocked, then entered. “Ready to go outside?  I’m hearing that’s where
the action is and I smell food.  I’m officially starving.”

We headed downstairs and though neither of us
really knew exactly where we were going, it wasn’t hard to follow the sounds of
laughter and music coming from outside.  We exited the back of the house into
an outdoor patio area, complete with stone tile flooring, arched entryways on
three sides, and a built in fire pit and barbeque.  There were chairs and
couches placed throughout, and I saw a live band had been set up on a mini
stage off to our right.  And not some backyard garage band that we had back
home either.  You know the kind, where beating a wooden spoon on a tin cup is
considered talent.  No, this band wore bowties and suit jackets, and played
real instruments that did not involve kitchen utensils of any kind.  There were
several guests seated throughout the patio area, and at white covered tables on
the lawn, while yet others were already enjoying themselves in the pool.

I was still soaking it all in when Brooke
tugged on my arm.  “I see a bar.  Champagne?”

We made our way over to the open bar, where
Brooke handed me a champagne flute and held hers up in a toast.  “To your first
big girl party,” she giggled as she touched her glass to mine.

I rolled my eyes at her and took a small
sip.  It was at that moment that my eyes connected with a face I hadn’t
expected to see this weekend.  My heart sped up and I felt my face grow hot. 
What was Nathan doing here?  I hadn’t thought this was a work party, and
outside of Brooke, there didn’t appear to be any other Elite employees I
recognized.   He didn’t break eye contact with me as he headed straight for
us. 

Breathe, Reagan.

“Ladies,” He greeted us with a warm smile.

“Nathan,” Brooke and I both replied.

I looked at her as she looked at me. 

“Wait, you know each other?” she asked me. 

“Yes, we met last week.”  I hadn’t yet told
Brooke about the hottie in the elevator, quite honestly for no other reason
than I wasn’t sure how to tell her without sounding completely ridiculous.  I
mean, who goes borderline insane over a guy you’ve seen twice and know nothing
about?  I was slightly embarrassed at my uncontrollable attraction to him and
therefore couldn’t bring myself to spill.  “Do
you
know him?”

Of course she probably would.  She’d worked
there much longer than I.  Stupid question.

Brooke smirked in his direction.  “Yes, I
know him,” she admitted.  There was an awkward pause, as it seemed she waited
for him to speak.  “Well?” she drawled.  “You gonna tell her?”

Tell me what? 

Nathan smiled gently at me.  “Reagan, please
forgive me and allow me to formally introduce myself.  I’m Nathan Preston.”  He
held out his hand, but I didn’t take it.  I just stared at him.

Nathan Preston?  Related to Roger?  As in
Roger-owner-of-Elite-billionaire-boss-who-was-going-to-kill-me-if-he-found-me-here
Preston?

No way.  No freakin’ way. 

“Preston.  I’m assuming you are Roger
Preston’s son?”  I guessed.

“Guilty,” he replied.  His eyes continued to
stare into mine, willing me to . . . what, I had no idea. 

This man who had flooded my thoughts for the last week, and
had the ability to turn me into a stammering fool whenever he came near me, was
Roger Preston’s son. 

I quickly masked my surprise and growing
disappointment, and took his hand, which he still held out.  “Well, Nathan
Preston.  It’s nice to meet you.  Formally.”

It was obvious nothing could ever happen
between us.  He was
the
boss’s son.  I had no desire to become fodder
for the gossip mill, letting them think I was sleeping my way to the top. 

I wanted to cry, but couldn’t explain why.

He gave my hand a brief shake.  “The pleasure
is all mine.  I’m glad you and Brooke could come out this weekend.”  He turned
to Brooke, who had been standing silently with a wide, silly grin on her face
as she had watched the two of us.  “Brooke, how are you?  It’s been a while.  I
trust my father is treating you well?”

“Oh, you know Mr. Preston.  Always a force to
be reckoned with.  But I can handle him.” Brooke waved her hand in the air and
took another drink of champagne.

“It must be true. Before you came along, my
father couldn’t keep a personal assistant to save his life,” Nathan joked. 

“Nathaniel, stop keeping our guests with your
nonsense.” Roger Preston appeared from behind me and stood next to his son,
looking angry, although I couldn’t fathom why.  Perhaps that was just how he
always looked.  He was dressed in black golfing shorts and a blue and white
polo.  Seeing the two of them side by side, it was easy to see the family
resemblance. 

“Miss Wade,” Roger Preston nodded at Brooke
with a rather forced smile, then directed his attention to me.   “Miss Andrews,
what a surprise,” he extended his hand to me and I shook it. 

“Nice to meet you again, Mr. Preston.” 
Crap.  Did I mention anything about work so he didn’t think I was a total
slacker?  Or just leave it be?  I was saved further comment as Nathan spoke up.

“Dad, I thought you would be on your second
round of golf by now,” Nathan said as he patted his father on the back. 

Mr. Preston turned to Nathan with a mild
trace of annoyance, and gave a short smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 
“Yes, well I came to rescue these young ladies, and take you to the range. 
Bart has drank entirely too much to see straight so you will be filling in.”
Roger stated.

Now it was Nathan’s turn to look annoyed, but
he too smiled and nodded. “Of course.  Ladies, forgive the rude interruption
but duty calls.  I’ll be seeing you later.” This was said directly to me, and I
looked away and took a sip from my glass, praying I didn’t choke and spew
champagne all over the CEO.  
 
 Nathan and his father walked away and
Brooke nudged my elbow. “How is it you meet Nathan Preston last week and this
is the first I’m hearing about it?”

I led the way to an empty table and sat
down.  “Brooke, I didn’t know he was a Preston.  He just said his name was
Nathan.” I shook my head, embarrassed.

Brooke leaned in from across the table.  “Details
come on.” She motioned with her hand for me to explain.

I briefly relayed my run-ins with Nathan,
both of them.  Of course, I left out the entire throw me on the floor and take
me now parts.  “So, see?  We’ve only spoken twice.  It’s not like the subject
of who his father is has come up.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing.  Daddy’s boy
has got it for you.  Bad.”  Brooke stared off toward the neighboring golf
course where somewhere, Nathan and his father were playing.

“No, he does not.  We just met.  Besides,
he’s Roger Preston’s son,” I argued.

“What difference does that make?” Brooke
scoffed as she drained the rest of her glass. 

“A lot.  I just moved here, this is a new
job, and I don’t want to get rumors started.  I need to succeed at this job on
my own,” I explained. 

“Okay, I get that.  And yes, if this goes
anywhere, you’ll need to be discreet for obvious reasons.  But let me give you
a little bit of advice.  Life is too short, and you only live it once.  And if
Mr. Nathan Preston comes sniffing around your door, as a free, single woman you
are entitled to let him in.  And to enjoy it!” Brooke winked at me.

“Yes, but—“

                “Brooke, I thought that was you.” A voice
drawled from behind us, and soon a tall woman came into view.  Brooke stood,
smoothing down her dress as the women embraced her with a hug quick hug. “Mrs.
Preston, how are you?” Brooke asked.

Crap.  This must be Nathan’s mom.  I set down
my glass and wiped my hands on my thigh.

“Just lovely dear.  I’m so glad you could
come on such short notice.  And who is your friend?” Mrs.  Preston turned to me
and I stood and held out my hand. 

Was it just me or was she slurring her
words? 

“Reagan Andrews.  Brooke and I are
roommates.  Thank you for inviting us.”

“Please, call me Katherine,” she replied. 
Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she’d been crying. 

We stood there for a moment in awkward
silence, until Katherine gave a short laugh.  “Well.  It was nice to meet you
and Brooke, always a pleasure.”

She laughed again--over what, I couldn’t tell--then
whirled around and headed to the bar, leaving a suspicious scent of alcohol in
her wake.  Brooke and I stared after her.

That was weird. 

“She seems nice,” I murmured.  The fact that
she also appeared to be rather drunk at barely past lunchtime was the gigantic
elephant in the room, or backyard, as it were, but I wasn’t going to be the
first to comment on it.

                “She is.  She and Mr. Preston have been good
to me over the last couple years.”  Brooke’s voice trailed off, as if she
wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Okay, so we were going to ignore the
elephant.

“So, have you known Nathan long, then?”  I
hoped to God I sounded at least semi-uninterested.

Brooke flashed me a knowing grin, letting me
know I had failed.  “From what I hear, Nathan has always been a bit of a wild
card.  He just became involved in the family business a few years back, after—“Brooke
paused, and cleared her throat.  “Well, he lived in Boston until about six
months ago, which is when I really got to actually know him.  He ran the Boston
office, but Rog—Mr. Preston needed him here.”

She tugged my arm toward a table heavily
laden with hors d’oeuvres.   “Come on.  Let’s eat.  I swear these crab cakes
have been calling my name since I arrived!”