Yours to Savor (21 page)

A sudden jolt of shame, completely unrelated to the one she was feeling before, shot through her. She’d heard herself think—and was repulsed by the weakness of her thoughts. She was not some whiny, needy, helpless little girl! Her emotions would
not
be strung onto the whims of a man. She was stronger than that!

She felt a resolve building. She didn’t like the feelings of impuissance that had clouded over her in the moments after Brandon left, and she banished them now.
I’m not going to let this man—or any other—take me on this kind of rollercoaster anymore! Shake it off, girl!
She pushed herself up, wiped away the tears—and was startled by a new realization.

Brandon hadn’t rejected her.

It was a ray of light in the dark.
No, he didn’t reject me at all
. He’d left her, yes, but not in the way she’d first thought. He
said
I was hard to resist—and that he would see me tomorrow.

That meant he wanted to be with her again.

She didn’t know how she’d overlooked those crucial words. The only explanation she could find was that she’d been so blind with desire when Brandon ripped himself away that she was left utterly incoherent afterward. Now, she felt more a fool than anything over those despairing feelings of weakness that had washed over her in the aftermath.

But not anymore. Determination replaced everything else in her mind as she walked into her suite and headed for the rack of clothes. Tomorrow night, she would simply have to make sure he’d be unable to leave her on the doorstep again.

No matter what wicked restraints he imposed on himself.

Chapter Thirteen

Sandra woke with a gasp. Again, the nightmare had startled her awake. She knew better than to expect anything different.

But this time, something
was
different: a new detail to the dream. This time, she’d dreamed it was raining when the anonymous stranger carried her outside. She could recall her wet hair clinging to her face, the moisture of raindrops melting away against the terrible heat of the fire.

The memory stood out so vividly in her mind that it was a wonder she hadn’t noticed it before.

What was truth, and what was fiction? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her original memory of the night her sister had died had been lost, replaced by the recurring nightmares. They were identical every time they came, so
any
new detail was remarkable.

But, as always, it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her. Sandra reached automatically for the small container of pills on her ratty bedside table… and snatched her hand back as if she’d been scalded when she found nothing but empty air. Her eyes shot open, fear gripped her—and with a sigh of relief she remembered she wasn’t at home anymore.

She was in a luxurious hotel suite paid for by Brandon.

The realization struck her as surreal. She took a deep breath. Last night at the Space Needle
hadn’t
just been a pleasant dream. It was all real. It was just so far outside her realm of reality that at any moment she was afraid the bubble would burst and she’d be back in Ocean Shores, working the desk in Doctor Baker’s office.

She lay back, the last remnants of sleep fading away. No, last night definitely wasn’t a dream.
If it had been, I’d have woken up with Brandon beside me
.

She pushed herself up. “
I’ll see you tomorrow
,” he had promised.

She was determined not to have “tomorrow” end like last night.

And this time, she had a plan.

Brandon couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d come to losing control with Sandra last night.

Every step they’d taken together after leaving the Space Needle had led him closer to the brink. But he wanted more than a one-night stand with her. He knew now that he wanted trust, passion, and
yes
, even a relationship.

As such, his usual hot-blooded Italian temperament had to be held in check. It had gotten him in trouble before. If he was truly ready to become a changed man, he had to have a solid rein on his excitability. Holding back the passion Sandra evoked in him was a personal challenge. He hoped it would help his pursuit of a deeper, more meaningful relationship with her.

For that type of relationship, Sandra had to understand—to truly
feel
—that he cared about her as a person.

I’m getting there,
Brandon thought as he maneuvered his Ferrari through the packed Seattle traffic,
but not just yet.

In some ways, Sandra was already open to him. She’d trusted him with the story about her ex. Last night, she’d been more than ready to go to bed.

Which had made holding off
extremely
fucking difficult.

But hold off he did, because giving in to temptation would have betrayed his intentions. Even though physically, Sandra might have been ready for him, Brandon knew that
psychologically
she wasn’t yet there.

He only had a few small clues to go by, but they were enough. Her residual hesitation would become clear in those times she’d laugh and break free, forgetting herself for a moment… only to have some internal mechanism snap into place and vault her back into that closet of shielded self-reserve.

Brandon couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked away from a woman ready to take him to bed. He’d
never
done it with one as stunning as Sandra. But he had to fight the frenzy of lust barreling through his mind and do it anyway.

All his women before had been throwaways. They’d been attractive, of course, but there was little past the superficial with them. Brandon itched for someone ready to challenge him, for someone not bowled over by his status, his body, his money.

Sandra
could
be that someone. She hesitated, yes, but he didn’t think that hesitation came from being intimidated by his persona. Otherwise, she would have never come to Seattle. But something made her cautious; some deep-rooted issues held her back. And until that limitation disappeared, Brandon would not fall victim to his primal desires.

No matter how much they tore at him.

The first time Brandon had spotted Sandra in that little coffee shop in Ocean Shores, he had
wanted
her. When he kissed her on the boat, and let his passion take over, he
needed
her. The speed with which
wanting
became
needing
frightened him, at first. It had come too quickly for comfort.

That’s why he had left for Seattle after their first date. Of course, he’d also had business concerns to take care of here, but he thought leaving Ocean Shores for a few days would let his mind cool down, and reduce his fixation on the feisty, blonde-haired beauty—

A honk ripped through the air, jarring him back to himself. He realized the light in front had turned green.

Asshole
, Brandon thought as he shot a glare at the Ford behind him. But as he moved into the intersection, he realized he was more irritated with himself. No matter what he was doing, thoughts of Sandra had a way of taking over his mind.

It had been like that since he had first seen her. And that little indefinable itch, the one that told him he should recognize her from somewhere, never ceased to gnaw at him, either.

Brandon changed lanes, smirking when he cut the trailing Ford off.
That’ll teach him.

It was the culmination of many different things that made Sandra so alluring. She had depth, substance, and for him…
intrigue
. She was intelligent, yet she hid that side from the world. She was gorgeous, but dressed in rags. Everything about her enticed his senses so much more than any woman before… and he couldn’t pinpoint
why
. What he felt for Sandra, even before he’d said a single word to her, was somehow more profound than the empty male lust for a pretty face or a beautiful body. It was instinctual. And if his instincts were right, she could be the first woman he’d met in a long time who was a real treasure.

That’s why he had to savor the process of getting to know her. Opening her mind to him would be like uncorking a fine bottle of wine: an art in and of itself.
And I can’t rush things. Not if I hope to enthrall Sandra on a deeply personal level.

He pulled up to a towering gray skyscraper, parking on the curb. His day was getting started. It was beyond time to force thoughts of Sandra out of his head. Otherwise, he’d never be able to focus.

His business brought him to Seattle for two reasons. The first was to check on Mark, the distributor who worked for him in the region. Mark was the one who had given Brandon the heads up about the kid from Ocean Shores dealing on their territory.

Brandon wasn’t worried about the kid. He was probably some young punk wanting to impress his girlfriend by making some quick cash. Brandon had dealt with that type of situation before. He could rough the kid up a bit, show him the consequences of what he was doing, and scare him off. Not enough to hurt him, though—Brandon knew it was imperative for his network to steer clear of violence. That was how they managed to stay on the good side of the law.

His entire operating mantra, in fact, hinged on staying on the good side of the law. The network wasn’t large—nothing like the sort run by the big organized crime units—but it was prosperous. And very lucrative. Their huge profit margins were made possible by selling to the right clientele. Everything Brandon and his partner did was low-risk, high-reward. That’s how it had been for the last thirteen years.

But now, he was close to leaving that life behind. He’d made enough money to sustain his lifestyle for a long time. More importantly, he’d promised his business partner, early on, that he would exit before he got attached for life. The time to leave, then, was now.

The network had begun when Brandon was still in college. Brandon’s business partner had possessed the experience and the right connections. Brandon had had the hunger. Together, they made an incomparable
duo and grown the network fast.

His business partner handled the administrative side of things: making sure shipments came in and were distributed to the right people, keeping their bank accounts and records in check, managing all their assets and cash flow. Brandon, however, preferred the more hands-on approach. He was the one who made customary visits to police departments, to federal officials’ offices, to politicians’ homes: wining and dining them to make sure they remembered to turn a blind eye to his dealings if public pressure ever got high. That was the second reason he’d come to Seattle. Right now, he was on his way to meet the head of the city’s DEA. The man was a personal friend, and Brandon had a special gift ready for him, fresh off the plane from Colombia: a brick of the purest powdered cocaine money could buy.