My Forbidden Date: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance

by Tara Brent

  She asked me once if Vince had ever dated a black woman. I laughed and answered he rarely dates any woman. Then Tiffany asked if he were gay. I had to explain that he was most likely asexual. His business was the only lover he had ever met willing to put up with his shit. Besides, our town is so small that it was hard to find someone who wasn’t from the same small village in Italy. My maternal great grandparents met on the plane ride over. Tiffany didn’t ask about Vince again but I did notice a few stray glances in my brother’s direction whenever she visited our house.

  Looking at Tiffany’s elegant profile as she studies her phone, I shake my head in disappointment. “Vince won’t act on it with any woman. He’s too serious to date for fun. He’d rather marry than date.”

  “Not like Jackson,” she smirks, placing down her phone. “He’s dated quite a few women. They could start a Facebook page. Or a twelve-step program. Has he ever come close?”

  “Close to what?” I ask, as my body tenses.

  “To getting married?” she states it simply. “I mean he’s dated around enough according to you and your brother. No one ever stood out from the pack?”

  “Nope,” I sigh with relief. “He’s the opposite of Vince. If he had been interested in the security guard, Jackson would’ve nailed her months ago behind the security desk while she was answering the phone. She would’ve been moaning too hard to say hello.”

  Tiffany scrunches up her nose. “Is he really that nasty?”

  “I’m exaggerating.” I sigh dramatically as I toss my ass down into my chair and spin around. “I might as well start my cat collection. Vince will never let me date a man I’m sexually attracted to.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” Tiff takes another sip of her tea while tapping at her screen. “He can’t be following you around town.”

  “Oh, but he has followed me,” I scoff. “He followed me after prom to make sure my virginity stayed intact.”

  Tiff raises a brow. “Did it?”

  I nod. “He took a flashlight and shined it into my date’s car. We were in the back seat talking about going to college—fully clothed. I was too stunned to be angry with Vince, but that boy never spoke to me again.” I wink. “Eventually managed to get rid of it but not that night.”

  We giggle, but sighing, I stop to think about how I would’ve liked to have lost it to Jackson. And not in a narrow dorm bed with a guy who needed instruction from a fellow virgin. I shudder, thinking about the awkwardness and frustration afterward. I should have gone to class that afternoon instead of cutting marketing.

  Abruptly, I sit up in my chair when my phone chimes. It’s Jackson on video waiting for me to pick up. Jeez. I pat down my hair and the jerky movement makes my chair dip precariously toward the floor. Descending slowly in a cocoon of black mesh, I yelp, and steady myself until I’m upright again. The phone chimes a third time, and Tiffany jumps up from her seat. I reach for the phone first and answer it with a chill tone as if I own the world and rule it.

  “Hey, Jackson.” My expression conveys boredom as I stare at the screen. What a delicious package of man. His thick dark waves are tousled on top of his head and his cheeks are flushed. That pink bottom lip kills me. The way it pouts and looks so kissable as he tilts it in a crooked grin. He smiles at me as if I’m the only good reason to smile.

  “I hear you were looking for me this morning?” he asks.

  Jackson’s lying down on a massage table holding the phone up in his free hand. I catch my breath. Correction. He’s lying shirtless on the massage table as Brandi rubs his broad shoulders in slow circular motions. Well, that’s a surprise. She actually is a masseuse. God, I’m catty. I shake myself out of my daze as he stares back at me with those cool gray eyes.

  “Hello,” I stutter. “If you’re busy...” My voice trails off as I watch hands kneed hard muscle. It’s like porn on demand tailored to fit my tastes. God, I can feel the goofy wide-eyed expression on my blushing face. Pull it together, Maya. He’s watching you check him out.

  He ignores my comment. “Why didn’t you come up?” he asks. “You don’t have to be shy about coming to see me.”

  Finally, I manage to look away. “Vince needed me at home for something,” I mutter.

  “Those boys depend on you, Maya,” he replies, “but someday you’re going to have to leave them.”

  I smile for two reasons. The first, Jackson calls me Maya. And two, someone finally gets what I go through every day in that house of men. I take care of my brothers as if we were still kids. I should’ve moved out but we’ve lived in that old Victorian on a half-acre since birth. Now the old house is surrounded by encroaching condos on either side. It’s like we're protecting the last plot of land from development sprawl. That’s ironic.

  I grin like the fool while staring into his sexy eyes. A hand nudges me, and I jump almost tipping my seat over again. Tiffany is by my side, smiling at the screen.

  “Hey Jackson. Remember me? Tiffany? I’m pretty sure we met at graduation.”

  “Hey Tiffany, we did meet at graduation,” he replies turning on his charm to overload. “A pretty smile like that is hard to forget.”

  Tiffany giggles. This girl never giggles but she lets one rip now. “I see you’re working out. You keep so busy with all the things you do. I saw your latest upload. What an amazing renovation on that house.”

  Jackson flexes a bicep and then blows a kiss toward the screen. His muscles are popping from the massage. He’s just the right kind of build at over six feet and in perfect shape. His skin is shining from the oils and all his definition is on mind-blowing display.

  I completely forgot what I was going to say. I’ve been crushing on him since I learned the difference between girls and boys. And now that I know the difference between boys and men, my brain can’t function when I look at him.

  “So, Maya why did you stop by?” he asks patiently.

  “Yes, of course, we want to ask you a favor,” I reply, “Tiff and I started a business. It’s a dating app called CuteMeet. The clients meet up for coffee, and if coffee goes well, you get an invite for lunch. And then dinner, if everything goes even better. It also promotes local restaurants. We started out with less than a hundred subscribers, and in the last six months, we’re up to 5K subscribers.”

  “That’s impressive, Maya.” We have his interest, and I’m feeling sure of myself again. “You were always the creative one. I’m glad you found a profitable way to make it work for you.”

  “Thanks.” I grin. “We have a lot of things planned but need to do a few more promotions before we expand. And that’s where we need your help.”

  I’m back on point and focused until Jackson rolls over onto his back. The towel over his hips shifts precariously to the side as Tiffany and I stare at the phone. I crane my neck as if I can see over the edge of the screen, and into his penthouse. He yanks it back in place, and I sit back when he looks at us.

  “I need to sit down for a moment,” whispers Tiffany. She walks quickly back to her desk and lays her forehead down on the hard surface. Her breathing is audible.

  “Our numbers have stopped growing,” I continue breathlessly. “We need more publicity to expand. So, we came up with an idea to feature local celebrities.” I clear my throat. “You’re attractive and people know you from your YouTube channel. So we want to feature you as our date of the month. You would date thirty women this coming June—a different women a day, just coffee, and we would live stream it.”

  He rubs his eyes and then looks straight at me. “So, you want to give the illusion if people sign up they may have the opportunity to date someone like me?”

  I swallow hard. “Would that be so bad?”

  He laughs. “I think it’s a smart business move.”

  I smile at Tiff who’s recovered. “So, are you interested, Jackson?” I ask. “I know it’s nuts, but we’ll screen the women first. I mean it’s crazy, but you’ll be helping us out a lot. People know you as a local celebrity with the real esta
te business and all.”

  “You might have some troubles finding a girl I haven’t dated,” he quips.

  You haven’t dated me yet, you jerk. But I’d never say that to him out loud, so I force a smile on my face. “I’m sure there’s someone out there. And our app will help make you a little more selective.”

  “Whoa, sounds like your brother talking.” He laughs. “I’m not the man-whore everybody thinks I am.”

  Someone scoffs, and Tiff has fully recovered. She folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head. I’ll talk to her later.

  “So, you’ll do it?” I bat my eyelashes just in case he needs to be swayed.

  “For you, Maya, I’d do anything.” He stares into the camera. And I feel a shiver shoot through me from my tailbone to my scalp. His statement seems loaded with a lot more meaning than just a favor. For a moment, I think about what else he could have meant as the screen goes black.

  Oh fuck. Unashamed of how my own head is spinning, I rest my forehead on my desk. It was lucky we had talked on the phone. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through it in person. I lift my head. Would it be a bad thing if he knew how I felt?

  “That was hard.” Tiffany smirks. “In a lot of ways. Why don’t you date him?”

  “My brother would have a fit,” I reply as reality comes to reclaim me. “Vince and Jackson have history. Besides, I’m the annoying little sister. I had to beg Vince to stop calling me Mayo when I went off to college.” I hold my forehead, bracing it against that shameful memory. “It’s better than stinkpot I guess.”

  My brow furrows as I replay the top ten most embarrassing moments I’ve experienced in front of Jackson. “We grew up together, and I’m almost like a sister to him. The first time, I tried to flirt with him. My mother laughed so hard until she realized I had bathed myself in her Chanel No 5. I narrowly escaped a spanking. Back then, I thought the more perfume you wore—the more a man would like you. Jackson noticed me all right. I stank like the ground floor of Macy's the day before Mother’s Day.”

  “If he were to describe you, I don’t think he would mention that moment,” points out Tiffany. “You’re twenty-five, and he’s what?”

  “He’s thirty-five and has done a lot more in one decade than I’ll ever do in my life.”

  Tiff stands up and pulls her chair over to my desk. It’s what she used to do back in the dorm before she gave me a pep talk. “It’s about time he settled down.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask a bit too defensively.

  “He’ll be forty soon,” she says, “Maybe we're doing him a favor. Maybe, he’ll meet the right one through our app.” She watches me, gauging my reaction. “If you’re not going for it, maybe you should help him find someone who will.”

  I look down at the phone screen, which thankfully is blank. What does Jackson really think of me? Am I still Mayo his best friend’s irritating tag-along sister? I can’t still be that annoying? He’s changed into someone I admire to the point of almost envying him. Haven’t I changed too? What would he say if I took a gamble and told him I really wanted him?

  “Wow, I really lost you there for a moment,” says Tiff, “it must be a nice thought because you are blushing like you just came.”

  I punch her bicep. “I’m concentrating on our future success.” I reply coolly, “Making money makes me hot.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can make you turn beet red.”

  I push my phone aside and yank my laptop toward me. I have to start working on finding thirty women for Jackson to date. The irony. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Chapter 2

  Jackson

  Doing coffee isn’t my thing. There’s nothing wrong with sitting around a store that resembles a hipster’s living room while sipping five-dollar coffee out of a decorated paper cup. But that’s not what I consider a date. I have money in my wallet and don’t mind spending it on a woman. But dinner and a blind date are out of the question. If things go sour, I need a built-in excuse, and going to a business meeting works like a charm. I tell Maya it will be lunch dates at my expense. I also want to promote a few of my favorite local restaurants including a few in the city.

  The first week is rough.

  “I’m really sorry,” Maya apologizes. My first date pulls her Chihuahua out of her purse and places it on the table. I love dogs but not when they sit their ass on top of my primavera and take a piss—I don’t like them anymore.

  “Oh my god,” giggles the brunette whose name I promptly forget, “he doesn’t do that at home.”

  I shake my head. The counters in her house are probably two inches deep in dog hair.

  After that I screen the women I’ll meet. And I don’t go on looks alone. Even if it is only an hour, I want conversation and not to spend sixty painful minutes checking my watch. Speaking of which, I have to leave soon for the next date.

  I tug at my tie as I check my teeth in the bathroom mirror before heading into the living room for my phone. Tonight, it’s a redhead who’s into gaming and chillin’. I guess there are no more long walks on the beach, but the women weren’t as bold when I first started dating. Christ, I sound like an old fart. I turn to the side and check out my profile. My stomach is as hard and flat as in my twenties. It better be. I spend six days a week at the gym. I roll my shoulders and check my phone. It’s the tenth and so far I have been on ten dates through Maya’s app.

  I need a break. Not just from dating but from other things besides this.

  I wonder why Maya asked me. And I half expected her to be my date that first night. And I was disappointed when she wasn’t. But I knew why she hadn’t. Vince is overprotective, and I almost take offense at it. But should I blame him? He caught me checking out Maya when she first came home from college. She went from being a scrawny ass kid into a gorgeous beauty who has the total package—long dark hair and shapely curves that bounce in a knit skirt. Plus she’s smart enough to start a successful business—I admire that the most.

  I shake the thought out of my head. I’m at least ten years older than her. Plenty of young guys have to be after her. She won’t want to be saddled with a man as old as her smothering brother.

  My phone rings on the table, and it’s reception, so I pick up. “Hi, Jackson,” Grace smiles on the screen. “Brandi is here for your massage.”

  I tilt a crooked smile. “Thanks. Send her up.”

  I pull on my suit jacket and button the middle button as Brandi walks off the elevator lugging her massage table. Carefully, she places it against the wall conscious of the white paint. My place looks like a gallery between exhibits. I don’t need crap on the walls when I have a view of the Atlantic. The penthouse is decorated in blues, my favorite color, balanced out with white. I collect old furniture, the kind with a history.

  “Not even going to pretend today?” she asks, dropping her purse on the couch.

  “Don’t have time,” I reply. “Do you have it?”

  She hands me a thin package padded with bubble wrap but I don’t open it in front of her. I unlock a drawer in a side table and shove it in before locking it again.

  “You’re not going to count it?” she asks lifting herself up on her toes to stretch.

  I eye her. “Should I?”

  Brandi shrugs her shoulders. “You’re a trusting soul.” She looks around the penthouse, and her gaze rests on the view of the port from the picture window. Bridgewater was a fishing town many decades ago before tech took over the seaside, and I made a fortune selling the old buildings Vince and I had bought up to renovate. I watch Brandi walk toward the patio window and watch the clear ocean view in the distance. The tide is mesmerizing as it crashes against the rotting wooden docks. It’s the reason why I don’t have any pictures on the walls. What can compete with Nature when she decides to give you a show?

  “Must be nice,” she remarks plaintively, “to be you.”

  I grimace at her shallow assessment of my life. “I’m not leaving right away
.” I smooth down the collar of my shirt. “You can hang out for a little while. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Do you have any whisky?” she asks.

  I glance at the time on my phone. It’s barely ten. Brandi notices the questioning look on my face. I wonder what else Derrick is expecting her to do today.

  “Just make it a shot,” she adds.

  I grab a shot glass off the bar and fill it with an aged whisky that slides smoothly down the throat. Brandi walks slowly toward me, showing off those toned and tanned legs. I hold the glass out and when she takes it out of mine, her fingers brush my hand. I look at her, and her green eyes hold my gaze as she mischievously smiles. Turning away, I place the bottle back on the bar. It’s not going to happen, sugar, not with me. I don’t touch what another man claims.

  “You look nice in a suit, Jax.” She slides onto the barstool and crosses her long legs. “I thought you were leaving us behind for the big time now that you’re a star on social.”

  For a moment, I’m motionless as I press my lips hard together. “I can’t be expected to keep paying for the mistakes I made when I was young.”

  “So, working for Derrick Harrison is a mistake?” Her voice rises into a rhetorical question.

  I thought Brandi might be serious but when I eye her, she has a smirk on her face. She likes to toy with men, but I’m not going to be played with especially by a pretty face that’s up to no good. “Derrick’s father was a neighborhood associate of my father’s friend.”

  “You’re placing plenty of distance between the two of you.” She drains her glass.

  I continue ignoring her quips. “And now my father is in the hospital. When he dies that’s when it ends for me.”

  Brandi doesn’t look so sure. It’s an old song that many people have sung before me. She sighs, “It’s all fun and games until somebody loses their life.”