Made to Love (9 page)

Nathan

I jabbed the elevator button for my floor and
leaned against the wall, closing my eyes.  I was in a pissy mood and I couldn’t
explain why.  I had not slept well the night before, but surprisingly it wasn’t
Reagan who had consumed my dreams, but my brother, Thomas.  I hadn’t dreamt of
him in quite some time, and wasn’t pleased to have him gallivanting through my
sub-conscious again, reminding me of everything I had loved and lost. 

Thomas and I had never had the love-hate
relationship so many siblings experience.  Even though he had been two years
older than me, it had been us against the world from pretty much the time I
could walk.   Whether he was teaching me to ride a bike, or playing my wing-man
in high school, Thomas had always, always had my back.  Even when I’d went a
little off the deep end in college, traveling abroad—sometimes with Jake, often
times alone--and wouldn’t be seen or heard from for months, it was Thomas who
had stood in the gap between me and our father, assuring him that I was just
sowing my wild oats, and that I wasn’t really a complete fuck-up.  I’ve no
doubt that had it not been for him, I’d have been written out of the Roger
Preston will the minute I’d refused to fly home for Christmas the first year
after I’d graduated.  Mom was having one of her big shin-digs, and I was
expected to be there.  But I had just landed in Spain with a gorgeous senorita
I had met on the plane, and was not in the mood to appease my father’s demands.

It probably hadn’t been the first time Thomas
had had to intervene on my behalf, unbeknownst to me, nor was it probably the
last. 

Thomas was my big brother, and I had wanted
to be like him in every way.  I was faced with the reality every day of how
miserably I had failed. 

Some shoes were just too large to fill.

So there had been my restless night, coupled
with the fact that I had been basically celibate for the last ten days, which I
think was the longest I had been without female companionship since high
school.  I figured the reason for my bad mood laid somewhere between the two.

I headed to my office, willing myself to
lighten up.  Things with Reagan were escalating; the attraction between us
becoming difficult to ignore.  Last night had cemented in my mind that she was
just as consumed with it as I was, and I was itching to see her and make plans
for another ‘drink’. 

You know, to see if I could help with the
celibacy thing.

I was formulating an IM to her requesting
that very thing when my father breezed into my office and planted himself in
the chair across from my desk. 

Apparently this visit was going to be a
long one.  Shit.

“Nathanial, I am leaving Friday morning for
Tokyo.  Here is my contact information and itinerary.”  He slid a sheet of
paper over to me. 

I picked it up and tossed it on a pile of
other paperwork on my desk, not bothering to look at it.  Why I continuously
chose to be an instigator with my father, I didn’t know.  Probably out of habit. 
“Okay,” I replied.

“I will be gone approximately two weeks, maybe
longer, depending on the progress made once I arrive.” He paused, and shifted
uncomfortably in the chair.  “I want you to look in on your mother.”

“I’m on Mommy duty until you get back.  Got
it,” I shot back.  His visit was doing nothing to improve my mood.  I was
already pissed off and had a feeling things could turn ugly real quick if I
didn’t end this immediately.

But he wasn’t finished.  “I’m talking about
more than your obligatory phone call,” he spat, sarcastically.  “It’s . . .
next week . . . I mean, the—“

“Dad, spit it out.  What are you trying to
tell me?”  I knew where this was headed, but was irritated the man was fumbling
around with his words when I could be having an actual conversation with
Reagan.

                “Thomas.  Next Thursday will be . . .” he
trailed off, still unable to formulate the words.

                “Will be what?” I questioned irrationally. 
“The anniversary of his death?  Yeah, I’m aware of that.  Just like I am also
aware that while you’ll be sightseeing in Japan on a whim, I will be left dealing
with your wife.  You know the one you promised to love, honor and
be
faithful
to all those years ago?”

My father leaned forward, his face turning
red.  “I don’t need to explain myself to you.  I have business to take care of,
and can’t stay here to hold your mother’s hand.  It’s been two years!”  He
barked. 

“No, of course not.  You’d rather hold your
mistress’s hand instead,” I all but shouted.  I was crossing a line, and I knew
it, but was unable to stop myself.   

My father jumped up, and slammed his hand on
my desk.  “You watch your mouth, boy,” he murmured low, between clenched
teeth.   

I had definitely struck a nerve, and part of
me wanted to retract my words, because suspecting something and knowing it as
fact were two entirely different things.  And some things I just didn’t want to
know about the man.  But the other part of me, the one that was itching for a
fight, simply no longer cared.

I stood as well.  “What?  Did I touch a
little close to home?  Or is it the hotel?  How about your office?  I’m sure
she’s been bent over that desk of yours a time or two.”  

                I barely had time to brace myself before my
father lunged at me, pushing me up against the window of my office.  
Now
we’re getting somewhere.

                “I’m warning you,” he threatened.

“But not denying it,” I immediately
countered.

                We stared at each other against the window, so
many unspoken things swirling the air around us.  I had opened Pandora’s Box,
yet I didn’t really know what to do with the information that had come spilling
out.  My father was having an affair.  With Brooke?  Most likely, but I suddenly
had no desire to ask.  The man was having an affair, and it probably wasn’t his
first.  Who really cared who it was with? 

The fight left me and all I wanted was to get out of here and
find the one person I knew could calm me down. 

How I knew this about her, I had no idea.  I
just did.

My father finally released me, and stepped
back.  Our eyes remained locked as he smoothed his suit jacket down and
straightened his tie.    

“I’ll be in touch once I land.”  He turned
and walked out of my office without another word. 

I stood behind my desk, staring at the door
long after he had gone.  Making up my mind, and not giving myself time to think
my way out of it, I followed suit, and headed to the eighth floor.

I abruptly walked into her office, and
clearly I wasn’t thinking straight because I had barged in without giving any
thought to who she may be with, or how it would look. 

Dear God, I was as bad as my father.

She looked up, slightly alarmed at my
intrusion.  A girl I recognized but whose name I could not place at the moment
began to rise from her chair.  My mind raced for an excuse that would explain
why I was here.

                “Miss. Andrews, sorry to barge in.  I need to
talk with you about J & J; do you have some time?”  

Miss Whatshername smartly took notice of the
look on my face and made a hasty exit.  I closed the door behind her and stood,
staring at Reagan.  Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure what to say. 

But I had been right, though.  Thirty seconds
in and I no longer felt the need to strangle someone upon sight.  I continued
to stare at her, taking in her full lips that I ached to claim, right here,
right now… up to the thick, dark lashes that framed her beautiful amber colored
eyes.  Eyes that were now looking at me warily, and with perhaps a bit of
concern.

“What’s wrong?”

I moved away from the door, breathing
easier.  I folded myself into one of her office chairs and cleared my throat. 
There were so many ways to answer that question, I didn’t know where to begin.

I chose the one that had prompted me to come here in the first
place.

“I just needed to see you.” I could tell she
had no idea how to respond to my direct honesty.  Hell, I didn’t even know how
to respond.  I couldn’t take it back, though, so I hurried to explain, just in
case I had totally freaked her out.

“I . . . my father is going to Tokyo in two
days.”  I’m sure she knew this already, since his traveling companion also
happened to be her roommate.  I didn’t know where I was going with this, hadn’t
planned what I was going to say and was just really saying whatever came to
mind.  Hell, I knew what this woman looked and sounded like when she came.  I
shouldn’t be this awkward and uncertain.  She still looked a little confused,
so I continued on.

“He’s going to be gone for about two weeks or
so, which shouldn’t be an issue.  Except it is.  Because next week marks the
two year anniversary of my brother’s death, and he won’t be here.   My mom is .
. . it’s just a really hard time for her.  For the both of us.  He says it’s
for business, but Hu Wuang could wait.  No, he’s just being a coward, thinking
if he’s not here, he doesn’t have to deal with it.  Her.”  I let out a heavy
sigh and rubbed my hand over my face.  “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m pissed and not
thinking straight.  I shouldn’t have barged in on you like this.” 
And I’m
nervous as hell around you for reasons I don’t even want to explore.

She didn’t respond as I watched her rise, and
walk around to where I was sitting.  She sat in the chair beside me, and
reached out awkwardly, as if to take my hand, before changing her mind and
dropping her hand on the arm of the chair.  She looked at me, still not saying
a word.  Then, without warning, she suddenly, quickly, reached over and clasped
my hand in hers.  My heart leaped at the contact.

“I’m sorry.  Do you want to talk about it?”

I did.  I don’t know why I suddenly felt like
spilling my guts to this woman, but I honestly did.  I had no idea where to
begin, though.  There was so much I had kept bottled in for so long, and the
women I usually became involved with were too self-absorbed to even think about
asking how I felt about anything other than sex and how I liked it.  I wanted
to share myself with Reagan, but was afraid if I really told her the truth
about my mom, the relationship with me and my dad, my hurt, guilt and anger,
she’d run. 

I decided to keep it light.

“My father and I don’t exactly get along.” 
An extreme understatement if there ever was one, but that was a story for
another day.  “We just had a little chat in my office and I said some things I
shouldn’t have.  That’s all.”

I was acutely aware she was still holding my
hand.  I didn’t say more, but she seemed to understand my need to just be here,
with her.  We sat in silence for a moment, hands clasped and resting against
her chair.  The silence, the just sitting here doing nothing should have made
me uncomfortable.  Bored, even.  But it didn’t.  I was no longer surprised. 
Everything about this woman was a contradiction of emotions and I had given up
trying to understand them.

She squeezed my hand.  “Are you okay?”

I gently tugged on her hand, willing her to
come to me.  She stood and I patted my lap in invitation.  She hesitated, but
then slid down to seat herself on my lap, and I let out the breath I hadn’t
realized I was holding.   “I am now,” I answered softly. 

She gazed at me with unwavering eyes, and
then slightly leaned forward.  Our lips touched lightly, just the barest
contact, really.  I felt my heart rate increase as I forced myself to sit
motionless, letting her control the pace.  She was making the first move and I
was eager to see how far she would let it go.  She continued to brush the
lightest of kisses across my closed mouth, her warm breath heating my skin. 
Then, her tongue flickered out and slid across the seam of my lips and I almost
came up off the chair.  I gave up letting her have the upper hand, and opened
my mouth to devour hers.  I was literally coming unglued, the feel of her mouth
beneath mine driving me to heights of lust even I had never reached.  It was as
if every single contact with this woman was magnified, leaving my nerve endings
raw and exposed.  I had to end this now before I lost all sense and did
something crazy. 

Like throw her up on the desk and bury myself
in her. 

I hadn’t even locked the door.  Anyone could
walk in, and I was quickly approaching the point where I no longer cared.  I
had to stop it.  Now.

Apparently she had the same idea.  “Nathan,”
she whispered.  “We have to stop.”

I slowly pulled my mouth from her neck where
I had been gently nipping along her collarbone, up to her ear.  I became aware
that the evidence of my painful arousal was probably pressing against her leg,
angled as she was across my lap.  I pressed my forehead to hers, and closed my
eyes.  “We should, yes.  But believe me when I say I would rather not.”

She gave a nervous chuckle.  “Me, either,”
she admitted. 

I could have died, right then and there, and
died happy. 

I reluctantly pulled away, and she stood up,
smoothing down her skirt.  I stood as well.  “I know you have your doubts, and
I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.  But I think you should know that I
like you.  And I think you like me, too.”  I paused, waiting to see how she
would respond to this new round of stark honesty.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then,
“I do.  But--,” she held up a hand when I opened my mouth to say more.  “—can
we just leave it at that for now?  I need to  . . . I don’t normally--” she
broke off, as if she couldn’t quite put into words what she wanted to say.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek.  “Fine. 
For now.  But I make no promises when it comes to not kissing you.  That I just
cannot do.”  This said as I again found my mouth nibbling her earlobe.